


What Happens Next

by Sweetgirl2019



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Language, Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2020-07-19 09:35:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 108,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19971889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetgirl2019/pseuds/Sweetgirl2019
Summary: Ian and Mickey are being released from prison. Ian goes first and Mickey hopes to follow after 2 months. This is Gallavich trying to make their relationship work on the outside in season 10. They love each other enough to try.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> New to the Shameless and Gallavich fandom. Binge watched 9 seasons and my heart is completely taken. So excited both are coming back this year :)

*****

Stepping into the hallway from the infirmary, Ian glanced up at Henry, the prison guard waiting to escort him back to the yard. He gave a small smile and lowered his gaze as they walked side by side through the hallways. Once they passed the security barrier and the final gate had swung open, Ian glanced up at the blinding sun and closed his eyes for the briefest moment, letting the warmth wash over his face. Lowering his gaze back down, he took a few steps into the courtyard as his eyes scanned through the prisoners, looking for the familiar dark hair.

After that first night together, letting their emotions run high and their bodies find each other again, Mickey had pulled him aside in the courtyard the next day to pinpoint all the gangs. The Latin Kings had the bleachers, the Vice Lords had the hoops, Aryan Brotherhood had the weights and the CO’s controlled the rest. Mickey’s last name carried enough weight within the walls that the other prisoners left them to their business but Ian learned to keep his gaze lowered and his mouth quiet. To save themselves from further issues, they kept their relationship silent throughout their days. Only at nights did they let themselves feel everything. Once the final count had ended and the lights were shut, leaving the prison in almost pitch blackness, Ian would climb down from the top bunk and crawl next to Mickey in his. Some nights they had sex, others they’d talk for hours. It always ended with Ian spooning Mickey from behind and Mickey curling his fingers through Ian’s.

The eighteen months they spent incarcerated together hadn’t been perfect. After those first few nights of bliss had ended, the anger and resentment Mickey felt had reared its ugly head. They argued, they fought and Ian pleaded for forgiveness. After two weeks of staying distant, refusing to let Ian in his bed, Mickey had finally relented. His love for Ian always outweighed the rest. As much as Ian tried apologizing every day, Mickey eventually told him to quit. Whatever had happened was in the past and he didn’t want them to focus on the pain more than they had. Ian knew Mickey’s heart was guarded. As much as they smiled and laughed and screwed during the nights behind closed doors, he knew the hurt Mickey felt in his heart had never fully gone away. All Ian could do was speak those three simple words and remind Mickey of the future that awaited them.

Lip and Debbie were the only ones who visited Ian. With Fiona gone and Carl caught up in his own mess, Ian was grateful to see his siblings whenever they came. Six months into their sentence, Mandy had shown up and surprised Mickey with a visit, Svetlana and Yevgeny at her side. He’d been overwhelmed when he’d walked into the visiting room and seen the three waiting, his sister smiling brightly at him as she waved. After he’d first been incarcerated, he’d asked Mandy to move on with her life and forget she ever knew him. During a heated phone call with Svetlana, he’d asked her to do the same. After the relationship between her, Veronica and Kevin had ended, Svetlana had married a senile old man, giving her son a proper roof over his head. The marriage was one of convenience but when Yevgeny started asking for his Father, she knew she didn’t want anyone else taking the name other than her ex-husband. He’d begged her to let Yevgeny have a life outside him but she’d heard the desperate longing in his voice and they’d made amends. That first visit with the three of them, Yevgeny had stayed shy and unsure, clinging to his Mother’s arm for protection. Once the visits became more constant, the boy climbed out of his shell and warmed to his Father in a way that made Mickey break down in Ian’s arms when they were locked in their cell, safe from any judgment. The visits continued, giving Mickey hope for a future once his sentence would finally end.

Shaking the thoughts away, Ian looked up to see Mickey seated at one of the small benches outside, laughing with Ronan and Connor O’Neill, the Irish brothers Mickey knew through his Uncle Ronnie from back in the day. Making his way towards the small group, he smiled when Mickey finally noticed him, the brunet offering a grin of his own when Ian took the empty seat beside him.

“How was the visit?” he asked, leaning forward on his elbows to give Ian his full attention.

“Pretty good. Just a final checkup.”

“That’s right! Tonight’s your last at this lovely correctional facility,” Connor smiled, glancing between the two young men. “You nervous? Excited?”

“Eager,” Ian laughed before the look on Mickey’s face made his smile disappear.

As soon as the sadness had shown, it disappeared just as quick.

“He’s got a nice big family waiting for him when he gets out. Red will be just fine,” Mickey added.

Ian watched him for a long moment, wanting nothing more than to reach out and pull his boyfriend against his chest to soothe his fears away. Catching himself quickly, he looked at the others and gave a small smile instead.

“Mickey gets out two months after me. His family will be waiting too.”

He gave Mickey a pointed look but the other man rolled his eyes and looked away just as the guards signalled that yard time had ended. The four made their way to the cafeteria, falling into line behind the rest. By the time darkness finally filled the sky, they walked inside their cell and climbed into their own beds, keeping themselves busy as the guards did a final count for the night before the doors were slammed and lights went out. Before Ian could push his blanket off to climb down, Mickey’s quiet voice stopped him.

“You have a big day tomorrow, Gallagher. Just get some rest.”

Ignoring his boyfriend’s request, he hopped down from his bunk and climbed in behind Mickey, covering the blanket over their bodies before leaning up on his elbow to gaze down at him.

“Mick, look at me,” he pleaded, his voice gentle.

Mickey kept his eyes focused on the wall in front of him, making Ian reach out to wrap his arm around his chest. Pulling their bodies flush together, Ian pressed a kiss to his neck and breathed him in.

“I hate leaving here without you,” he whispered, letting his lips travel across the soft skin. “It’s only two more months, Mick. I’ll visit you every week, we’ll talk on the phone and we’ll get through it.”

“You’ll be busy enough dealing with all the shit outside again,” Mickey said, shrugging. “Maybe you should stay away from here, focus on yourself.”

“Mick…”

“I have no expectations, you know?” he barreled on, cutting Ian off before he could protest. “I mean, yeah, this was great. The past eighteen months were fucking awesome. But you do what you gotta do, Gallagher. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Mickey, what the fuck?” Ian said, turning the other man over to catch his gaze. “I’m waiting for you.”

“Just saying it’s okay if you wanna go to Boystown or find a quick fuck or something. Not like before, you know? We ain’t promised to each other or anything. Do whatever you gotta.”

Taking a deep breath, Ian lowered his hands to cup his boyfriend’s face, holding him steady to keep their eyes locked on one another.

“I’m going to find a job and then look for a place to rent so when you get out of here in two months, it’ll just be you and me again,” he said, the finality in his words making Mickey bite his lower lip.

“You don’t have to make promises, Firecrotch,” he offered, the grin never reaching his eyes.

“Mickey, I know a part of you doesn’t believe me and I know that’s my fault. I’ve hurt you over and over again. I fucked up so many times with you. I’m so sorry.”

He ran his hand through Mickey’s hair, the intimacy of the touch making the other man swallow the lump in his throat.

“Stop apologizing, Gallagher.”

“I’ll keep telling you how sorry I am until you believe me when I say I’m in this for the long haul. Doesn't matter how long it takes.”

Lowering his face, he pressed their foreheads together, his heart hurting when he felt Mickey lift shaky hands to grip his biceps.

“I love you.”

“Okay,” Mickey chuckled.

“No, Mickey. I love you.”

“Yeah, alright, Firecrotch. Enough with the fucking emotions.”

“I love you,” Ian repeated, his tight grip on Mickey leaving him trapped beneath him.

“Okay, yeah, me too. Whatever,” he tried dismissing.

Leaning up on his elbows, he stared into Mickey’s eyes until he saw the fight go out of him.

“I _love_ you, Mick.”

Lifting his hands to slip into Ian’s hair, Mickey finally nodded. “I love you too.”

Their hands worked in the darkness, peeling every layer of clothing away until they were bare, their bodies rubbing together under the warmth of the blanket. Their lips met in a harsh clash of teeth and tongues, both trying their best to savor every moment. When Ian slid a long finger inside him, all Mickey could do was whimper in the silence. One finger became two, two became three. When Ian finally pressed himself between Mickey’s open legs and pushed in, he swallowed the moan with a kiss that left them both breathless.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, peppering kisses against any skin he could reach. “You and me, Mickey. Just you and me.”

They rocked their bodies together, mindful to keep their moans quiet. When Mickey arched his back on a deep thrust and tightened his hold around Ian’s neck, Ian lowered his teeth to Mickey’s chest, biting hard. The sudden pain jolted Mickey forward, his head falling back in pleasure as Ian quickly followed him. They panted against each other’s mouths, their bodies still connected as their hearts began to slow. Kissing the wince from Mickey’s face when he pulled out, Ian reached above them for his towel, tossing the blanket to the side so he could wipe the evidence away. Mickey watched him with wide eyes, releasing his breath when Ian tossed the towel into the sink and slid his long arms around him. They laid wrapped around one another, breathing each other’s air as Ian rubbed his back in slow, gentle touches.

“Two months?” Mickey asked after several beats of silence.

“Two months,” Ian smiled, his nerves washing away at the words.

“Pretty amazing,” Mickey added.

“What’s that?” Ian asked, moving even closer and slipping one leg between his boyfriend’s.

“You still give it to me good and hard, even after all this time,” he snorted, making Ian laugh openly above him. “Still not tired of me, Firecrotch?”

Ian could hear the vulnerability behind the humorous words and wrapped his arms even tighter.

“Never,” he whispered, lowering his head to slot their mouths together again.

They exchanged lazy kisses for several minutes until Ian fell asleep against him. Holding onto him tighter than before, Mickey sighed in the silence of the cell, his eyes staying open.

********

Their morning had been quiet, both having trained their bodies to wake before the first count to avoid the guards finding them tangled in the sheets. They’d gotten dressed in silence, the anxiety of separation floating between them.

“Gallagher, let’s go!”

The words were shouted too soon for Ian. With their cell still locked, he spun around and stared into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, the ones he’d fallen in love with at fifteen. All Mickey did was watch him with a sad smile, his top still bare as Ian let his eyes travel down to Mickey’s chest. Years ago, his misspelt name had sat there, tattooed into the skin. After Ian had left him at the border, the first thing Mickey had done was find a tattoo parlor in Mexico. All he had wanted was to forget. The name had been removed, leaving a rough scar against his skin. Ian’s heart had broken when he’d seen it again for the first time but deep down, he understood why Mickey had done what he did.

Before either could repeat the words they’d whispered last night, the cell door slammed open and Henry stepped inside.

“Come on, Gallagher. You’re free to go,” the guard ordered.

“Get out of here, Red,” Mickey added, tilting his head towards the door. “You’re free, man. Get the fuck out.”

Ian watched him for another broken moment before he felt Henry curling his hand around his bicep. He dropped his gaze as the guard led him away, stopping a few cages down. The desperate plea in his eyes made Henry roll his own but the guard quickly nodded. He was one of the good ones. Ian would never forget. Slipping back into his cell, grateful that Henry stood at the door, blocking the entrance, he pushed himself against a surprised Mickey and captured his mouth in a burning kiss.

“Two months,” he reminded, letting his lips trail over Mickey’s face. “Two months. Don’t forget.”

Pulling back, he let his fingers touch Mickey’s cheek a final time before wiping his own eyes and following Henry out of the cell. When Ian was finally gone, Mickey lowered himself back onto the bed, turning towards the wall to keep the roaming prisoners oblivious to his tears.

Ian moved through the motions, changing into his street clothes and taking his belongings before signing the paperwork that was tossed before him. Following two other guards towards the exit, he stepped through the doors and made his way down the fenced pathway. When he walked through and the gates behind him shut with a loud slam, he jumped and stared at the prison he’d just exited. His pills and wallet were snug in his pockets but his heart was still locked away behind those walls.

“Ian.”

Turning back to face the open road, he watched as Lip, Debbie, Carl and Veronica made their way towards him. Frozen in his spot, he glanced up just as Lip reached out, the brothers coming together in a warm embrace. When Lip finally moved back, Debbie was next. By the time Veronica had squeezed him, all his energy had disappeared.

“Are you okay, Ian?” Debbie asked him, the worry in her eyes bleeding through.

“I don’t want to leave him.”

“Oh baby,” Veronica smiled, pulling him against her chest. “Mickey’s out in two months, right? It’ll pass by so quick, you won’t even feel the separation.”

Ian looked into her eyes, desperate to believe her assurance before looking at his siblings and forcing a smile.

“The food here was complete shit. Can we grab a bite?”

Lip was the first who smiled, his whole demeanour changing as he pulled his brother into another hug. As they loaded into Lip’s car with Veronica behind the wheel, Ian looked back at the prison a final time before they drove away.


	2. Chapter 2

*****

Turning to his other side, Ian stared at the messy room around him. Clothes were tossed in every corner, mismatched shoes thrown in every crevice and scattered books and toys took up the rest of the space. Glancing over at his sleeping brother, Ian smiled as Liam snored quietly from his bed. Reaching for his watch, he grimaced when the time read seven. A week had gone by since he’d walked out of prison and he’d managed an hour of fitful rest each night, some nights none at all. Feeling the aches in his bones from lying on his back, he threw off his covers and made his way towards the bathroom. A quick shower later, he was dressed in jeans and a green flannel, one that Mickey had always loved on him.

_Mickey_ he sighed to himself as he quietly made his way downstairs.

His stomach was in knots whenever he thought about his boyfriend, which lasted almost every minute of his days. Before they had said goodbye and Ian had left, they’d made a promise to talk on the phone each day. When the first day had passed and no calls came, Ian had simply brushed it off. When the next day came with radio silence, Ian had felt his insides twist. He understood the fears that Mickey had. He’d been responsible for so many of them. He knew Mickey pulling away, distancing himself was a way to keep himself protected. But after two years together within those walls, it killed Ian that a part of Mickey still didn’t trust him to stay. But he promised himself to remain patient. Today was Wednesday, the day he would visit Mickey in prison. All he could hope was that Mickey hadn’t removed his name from the visitors list.

His thoughts were cut short when Tami strolled into the kitchen, baby Tessa cradled in her arms.

“Morning,” she greeted, offering him a warm smile as she pulled a bottle of milk from the fridge and faced her daughter. “Let’s warm you up some milk, baby girl.”

Lip made his way towards them, giving his girlfriend a kiss in greeting before giving his daughter the same. Ian watched them for a few seconds, caught up in the domestic moment until Tami slipped out of the room.

“Is the coffee fresh?” Lip asked, capturing his attention.

Ian simply nodded, holding his lukewarm mug in the air. Pouring himself a cup, Lip grabbed a slice of toast before sitting across his brother.

“How long you been up?”

“Since seven,” Ian shrugged.

“How long you been awake?” Lip asked, raising his brow.

“Didn’t really sleep much,” Ian admitted, leaning back in his seat and pushing the mug away.

“It’ll take you some time to adjust. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, it’s not that. Being free, not being locked up anymore, I’m okay with all that,” Ian sighed.

“Then what’s keeping you up, little brother?”

Ian watched him for a few seconds before deflating. “I spent every night wrapped around him for two years. I can’t sleep without him.”

Lip slowly lowered his mug, giving him a small nod. “Don’t you see him later today?”

“Yeah, I do,” Ian sighed, rising to his feet. “Have to see my parole officer first though.”

“How’s the job hunt going?”

“So far, it’s a grocery store, gas station and the meat packing plant,” Ian said, chuckling softly as his mind went back to a conversation he’d had with Mickey a lifetime ago. “None really sound too appealing.”

“Think of it as a start,” Lip offered, watching as Ian rinsed his mug in the sink. “You have to start somewhere, right? Work your way back up?”

“Work my way back up into the good graces of society?”

“Something like that, Convict,” Lip snorted.

Shaking his head, Ian grabbed his phone. “I have to swing by the Alibi first. Kevin left me a message last night, said he wanted to talk.”

“Want some company?”

“What about Tami and the baby?”

“Need a break from dirty diapers,” Lip shrugged, standing up from the table. “She’s my daughter. I love her a lot. Just need a break for a few hours.”

“Tami doesn’t get a break,” Ian pointed out.

“That’s ‘cause she’s awesome and I’m a douche,” Lip grinned.

“At least you admit it now,” Ian chuckled. “I’ll be in the car.”

His brother waved him off as he jogged back upstairs. Making his way outside, Ian slipped inside the old car, cringing at the loud squeak when the door slammed shut behind him. Glancing down at his phone, he snorted when he remembered Carl slipping him the device on his first night. He’d stolen the Androids off a truck weeks back but had kept one for Ian’s release. His little brother, the thief, ex-drug dealer. Or was he still active? Ian shook the headache away, grateful for the phone in his hands either way.

Switching it on, he stared down at the picture of Mickey he used as the wallpaper for his screen. He’d taken it with his last phone, back when they were on their way to Mexico. Mickey had been sleeping on the blanket, his face turned towards the stars as Ian watched him. He knew he’d never get the chance had Mickey been awake and had taken the picture on a whim. He kept that photo long after leaving Mickey at the border the next day. He’d kept it through the months he’d spent trying to convince himself that his choice had been correct. But every night, he’d slip into his bathroom and stare at the photo for a few minutes. Now it was the wallpaper in his new phone, no longer hidden, but a promise of everything he’d always wanted.

When the driver’s door slammed shut beside him, Ian jumped and quickly put his phone away. Lip turned a steady gaze on his brother before his face softened.

“You’re free, Ian. You’re not locked up anymore.”

“I know,” he said, chuckling quietly. “My mind was somewhere else, that’s all.”

“Mickey’s asshole?”

“Fuck you,” Ian said but couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “I missed you.”

Lip gave a smirk as he pulled onto the street, merging with the busy morning traffic.

********  


Staring up at the bunk above him, Mickey pressed his head into his pillow as his new cellmate snored away, oblivious to the thunderous noise he made. 

“Fucking shut up!” he snapped, sending a swift kick to the bed.

The snoring paused for only a moment as the heavyset man switched sides before the sound erupted again. A part of him wanted to reach up and strangle the other man, see if he could scare him into silence but he’d heard from Connor that his new cellmate had ties with the Latin Kings. He had seven weeks left on his bid. He wouldn’t do anything to risk his release being delayed. He couldn’t do that to Mandy or to Yev. He couldn’t do that to _Ian_.

A sigh fell from his lips as he thought about his ginger boyfriend. They’d been inseparable through most of the two years inside, spending their time together screwing, kissing or making plans. But the second Ian’s release came close enough to be real, Mickey had started pulling away. He knew Ian loved him. He knew Ian was sorry for everything that had happened but Mickey couldn’t help the feeling he got in the pit of his stomach. Deep down, a part of him believed that Ian would abandon him all over again. No matter what he did to convince himself Ian was in this, that small bit of doubt clawed its way through him until it was too loud to ignore. He knew he’d hurt Ian by not calling him but he was desperate to keep his heart guarded.

“Convicts, breakfast!”

The cell gates burst open and Mickey jumped from his bed to join the others outside. The showers were shitty, the food was even shittier. But Mickey needed something to keep his mind from Ian’s visit.

********

“If it isn’t Gay Jesus!” Kevin hollered.

Ian cringed at the greeting, wanting nothing more than to forget that period of his life. Lip took a few steps ahead of him, glaring at Kevin who shrunk back despite his towering height.

“Sorry, man! You know it’s said with love,” Kevin quickly placated.

Glancing at the familiar faces of the regulars, Ian followed Lip to the bar and took a seat.

“Don’t worry about it, man. It’s good to be reminded of my idiocy every now and then.”

“Want a beer? On the house?”

“It’s ten in the morning, Kev,” Lip said, snorting at the other man.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” he held up his hands and turned to Ian. “Really glad you’re home, man.”

“Thanks,” Ian smiled. “I’ll take a water if you have it.”

Kevin slid a bottle towards him and Ian took a long drink before giving Kevin his full attention.

“So what’s up? Why’d you want to meet?”

“Can’t I just say hi to an old friend?” Kevin frowned.

Both boys gave him a look and the older man quickly chuckled, leaning forward on his elbows.

“How’s the job hunt going?”

“Not the best. Lots of dead end, minimum wage shit,” Ian shrugged.

“EMT’s out of the picture?” Kevin asked, leaning back to wipe the counter between them.

“Yeah, they’ll never take me back,” Ian shook his head, tossing Lip a glance. “I guess grocery store’s the best out of three. Might get some discounts.”

“Or,” Kevin cut in as both brothers turned to him. “You could work here.”

“As what? A sweeper?” Ian frowned.

“No, not as a sweeper! A bartender!”

Ian sat in stunned silence, looking to Lip who shrugged and smiled.

“Really?” he asked, turning to Kevin again. “I just got out of jail. Are you okay with that?”

“Kid, are you serious?” Kevin chuckled, waving his hands around the bar. “Half the people here are convicts!”

“Hey!” Tommy spat from a few seats away but the three easily ignored him.

“Plus, did you forget we used to run the Rub N Tug out of here?” Kevin reminded before leaning forward, his voice growing sincere. “How’s our favorite pube loving thug doing?”

“What?” Ian asked, chuckling in confusion.

“Inside joke,” Kevin shook his head. “How’s Mickey?”

Ian’s smile faltered as he looked down at his hands. “He’s good. Gets out in seven weeks.”

“Oh no,” V’s voice sounded as she moved to stand next to her husband. “Do I hear a lover’s quarrel in your voice?”

“No,” he said, turning to her and ignoring the look Lip was giving him. “We’re fine. Just need these seven weeks to be over with.”

“Well, that boy loves you something fierce, sweetie,” V smiled, her words making Ian’s own smile widen.

“I love him too,” he said quietly.

V and Kevin made gushing noises as Lip gagged beside him. Before Ian could toss him his finger, V smacked him at the back of his head.

“Don’t make fun of these boys!” she snapped, her tone making Lip hold his hands up in defense. “They’ve been through enough.”

“Shit, V, I never thought you cared that much,” Ian teased.

“You’re damn right I care about you! Fiona was my best friend. She was family which makes you family and yes, Mickey too. I miss that trash talking little thug.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Ian chuckled.

V’s smile softened again as she pressed against Kevin. “So, are you taking him up on his offer?”

“Bartender? That would be amazing, actually.”

“Yeah, man! You can take a course at the local college or bartending school or something. Get certified and shit! Only twelve hours. I googled,” Kevin grinned.

“What do you think?” Lip asked as Ian turned to him with his first genuine smile in days.

  
********

Mickey sighed as he folded the new stack of laundry thrown in front of him. As jobs went in prison, he had one of the steadiest. Talk with other prisoners was minimal and he was able to do his job in peace without anyone bothering him. It was boring and tedious but the quiet was soothing.

“Milkovich! You got a visitor,” one of the guards bellowed from the doorway.

Folding his last sheet, he pushed away from the counter and made his way over. Following the guard in silence, he bit his lower lip as they made their way down the hall towards visitation. With Mickey having been a model prisoner for two years, he’d been granted open visits. Today, though, he wished he could see Ian with a glass separating them.

Once the door had opened and the guard stepped aside, Mickey took a deep breath and walked into the room. His eyes scanned across the tables, picking out the prisoners he knew and the ones he didn’t before his eyes landed on Ian, waiting at a table near the back wall. Ian was already on his feet, watching him with wide eyes and a smile so bright Mickey found himself closing the distance.

“Hi,” Ian breathed out the moment they were in touching distance.

Mickey swallowed hard as they lowered into their seats.

“How are you? Are you okay?” Ian stumbled through his words. “You didn’t call, Mick. I was worried. Did something happen?”

“Cool your jets, Firecrotch,” Mickey grumbled, glancing around them again before leaning in. “You look good.”

Ian smiled at his words, moving closer on instinct. “Are you okay, Mick?”

“I’m good, man,” Mickey nodded. “What’s happening outside? How’s the job hunt?”

Sighing at the quick change, Ian’s smile faded. “Kev and V offered me a job at the Alibi, just this morning actually. Bartender.”

“Suits you,” Mickey grunted. “Draw the crowds in with your fiery hair and looks and shit.”

“They can look all they want. No touching though,” Ian reminded, his face falling when Mickey kept his gaze on the table between them. “Mickey…”

“Are you staying at home?”

“Yeah, same bed too,” Ian chuckled. “Lots of memories in that bed. With you.”

Mickey met his eyes before looking away.

“Mick, look at me,” Ian pleaded. “Don’t shut me out. Seven more weeks and you’re out. I’m going to look for apartments tomorrow so you and me could have our own space, our own bed.”

“Didn’t really work that well last time,” Mickey reminded him, lifting his gaze. “Everything got fucked up.”

“I know,” Ian said softly. “It's different now. I see what's right in front of me. You're the best thing in my life.”

Mickey let out the breath he'd been holding when he felt a hand cover his own.

“I love you,” Ian whispered. “I’m waiting for you.”

Before either could say anything more, a guard spoke through the speakers, signalling the end of the visits.

“You know, if we were married, we could get conjugal visits,” Ian commented.

Mickey’s eyes snapped up to his as he drew his hand away.

“Don’t say shit like that if you don’t mean it.”

“Mickey,” Ian started but his boyfriend was already backing away with the other prisoners. “Mick!”

The door shut behind the last inmate and Ian buried his hands in his face. When he felt a hand shaking him, he looked up to see the kind guard, Henry, staring down at him.

“Let’s go, Gallagher.”

Moving through the hallway, Ian exited the building and climbed back into the car as Lip turned to stare at him from behind the wheel.

“So? How was he?”

“Quiet,” Ian said after a minute. “I think _he_ thinks that I don’t want him, that I don’t want this.”

“Look,” Lip started. “I get that you care about him but maybe you guys should pull the plug on this once and for all.”

“What? Are you nuts?” Ian snapped.

“Ian, you’ve been through so much. You _just_ got out of jail. Maybe some time apart will be good for you. You can get your life sorted. Have some happiness because with Mickey, it’s never been easy.”

“The best things never are,” Ian replied. “ _He’s_ my happiness, Lip. I’ve loved him since I was fifteen. Even when I was with Caleb or Trevor, it was Mick. It was always Mick.”

He pressed against his head and then moved his hand over his heart.

“You’re my brother. I know you want to defend me but don’t make me out to be some wounded, innocent party,” Ian shook his head. “Ever since the disease, most if not all of the mistakes between us are on me. Cheating on him, lying, taking Yev, pushing him away? Some of that I can blame on the bipolar but I can’t blame it for everything. Even _I’m_ tired of that excuse.”

Sighing heavily, he ran a hand through his hair.

“Breaking up with him the way I did? Just tossing him aside like that? Leaving him to rot in prison, forgetting he existed, moving on with my life? Those were all me, Lip. They were my choices,” he said, staring out the windshield. “When he broke out of prison and came to me, I gave him that hope again because seeing him, being with him, it’s like everything else disappeared. All I wanted was him but I knew I could never leave my family. I knew going somewhere foreign, not knowing if I could find my meds, was scary but I went anyway. I kissed him, I fucked him, gave him hope and then yanked it all away at the border.”

Turning his teary eyes to Lip, he gave a sad smile.

“I put him through so much shit and he still rolled on the cartel and made sure his deal landed him here in Chicago for me, 'cause Mandy had told him everything. He gave up his own freedom to come here and watch my back,” Ian said, shaking his head. “He’s given me everything and I twisted the knife deeper each time.”

“But he’s hurt you too,” Lip reminded, speaking quietly. “When you guys were younger.”

“Yeah, when we were _younger_ ,” Ian chuckled. “I ain't saying he’s perfect. He hurt me a lot back then, never admitting his feelings, pushing me away. But he was like that 'cause of fucking Terry. We had it rough growing up with Frank, with Monica. Living paycheck to paycheck, never having enough, always fending for ourselves. But our home was never violent. Mickey’s was. That’s not a small difference.”

Lip looked away at the words as Ian sighed.

“I can’t go to sleep without him. I don’t want to build a life without him. He’s the love of my fucking life,” Ian exclaimed. “He’s chased me long enough. It's time I chased him.”

Breathing heavily, Lip tossed him a glance, his mouth curling into a smile. “You were kind of an asshole with him, weren’t you?”

A laugh startled out of Ian as he nodded.

“Look, I never really liked Mickey. Hated the emotional shit he put you through. Always thought you could do better, especially in the beginning,” Lip started. “But when we found out you were bipolar, he really stepped up and took care of you. He tried his best and I respected him for it.”

He hesitated another moment as he met Ian’s gaze.

“You really love him, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Alright,” Lip sighed. “Need some help looking for apartments, then?”

Ian’s smile slowly widened as Lip shook his head and drove away.


	3. Chapter 3

*****

Drumming his fingers on the table, Ian glanced around himself at the other families in the visiting room. Several faces he recognized were huddled close to their loved ones, tough guys on the inside but vulnerable away from prying eyes. He watched as a convict whose name he never knew lean down towards his young daughter, rubbing her cheek as the little girl smiled shyly at his touch. The door suddenly creaked open, pulling Ian’s gaze in focus. Smiling nervously, he stood from his seat and watched as a guard sauntered through.

“Where’s Mickey?” he asked when the space behind the other man was empty.

“He’s not coming."

“Why? Is he okay? Did something happen?” Ian pressed, his mind working overtime.

The guard simply snorted as he crossed his arms at his chest. “He’s fine, Gallagher. Just doesn’t want to see you.”

Ian took a step backwards, his insides twisting at the words. “Why?”

“Do I look like his fucking keeper?” the guard spat. “Maybe he got tired of all your questions.”

Moving towards the other door, he motioned for Ian to exit. Lifting his chin in anger, Ian pushed past the guard and forced himself through the halls until he was standing outside, the gate slamming shut behind him.  
  
  
********

“Hey Mickey,” Connor greeted, moving beside the smaller man as they started folding the laundry. “Isn’t it visiting hour for you right now?”

“Not today,” Mickey muttered, keeping his eyes focused on his task.

“How come? I thought Gallagher was a sure thing,” Conner said, looking at him from the side.

“How about you mind your fucking business?” Mickey snapped.

When Connor raised a brow followed by an unimpressed glare, Mickey rolled his eyes and sank back.

“We got a problem here, Ladies?” a guard asked, stopping in front of their table.

“No trouble here, Boss. Milkovich and I are getting along just fine,” Connor smiled.

The guard watched them for a moment before grunting. “Get back to work, convicts. You can chit chat in yard time.”

Once the guard had moved on, Connor turned to the side, careful to keep his hands busy. “You want to try that again?”

“Didn’t feel like seeing him. Is that a fucking crime?” Mickey muttered, angrily folding the laundry from his stack.

“You know, they’ll just make you fold that all over again,” Connor chuckled, his words forcing Mickey to take a deep breath. “How long have you and Gallagher been together?”

Mickey snapped his gaze back to him before quickly glancing around to make sure none of the other convicts had heard the comment.

“Keep your mouth shut!” he spat, swallowing hard. “What the fuck are you getting at?”

“Mickey,” Connor started, smiling patiently. “I’m good friends with your Uncle Ronnie. He speaks about you when we talk. Checks in on you, makes sure you’re okay in here.”

When Mickey stayed silent, Connor sighed and leaned forward.

“He told me about you and Ian, kid. Told me what happened with your Dad when you came out at the bar that time. Asked me to keep an eye on you.”

Mickey’s eyes widened as he took a step back. “Didn’t think he really gave a shit.”

“He does. Just wanted to save face in front of your Dad,” Connor said, moving back to his laundry. “So, how long have you and him been together?”

“Why are you asking, man? I mean, I don’t get it. You don’t seem pissed off.”

Connor laughed as he tossed the folded sheet into the bin beside him. “Why would I care?”

“How about because…,” Mickey started before leaning in, his voice growing low. “How about because I’m gay?”

“My nephew’s gay. My youngest sister married some girl down in Vegas. I don’t judge, kid.”

Mickey took a deep breath as he stared at the older man. When Connor watched him with an expectant glare, Mickey moved onto the next bedsheet and sighed.

“Years, man. He was fifteen, I was sixteen.”

“Been together this whole time?”

“Nah, on and off,” Mickey said, staring down at the laundry. “He tried really hard with me at first, get me to open up and shit but I couldn’t do that. We lived in the South Side. You don’t flaunt that shit around, especially if you had my Dad.”

Connor nodded in sympathy. “What happened?”

“Too much shit went wrong, man,” Mickey muttered, his gaze growing hard. “I kept screwing things up. Then some shit happened with my Dad and I got a hooker pregnant. That’s how I got my kid.”

Mickey’s mind drifted to the memory of that day but he quickly shook his head.

“Then that shit at the bar happened and I felt free, you know? Finally,” he said, sighing heavily. “But then he got sick.”

“Cancer sick?” Connor asked.

“No,” Mickey shook his head again before pausing. “Don’t think he’d want me telling you his private shit. He just got sick for a bit, wasn’t himself. Had to go on meds but didn’t want to take them.”

“Is that when things ended?”

“He thought I was trying to change him or fix him or whatever. Told him I loved him and he dumped my ass,” Mickey scoffed, the memory of that day still hard to swallow. “I did some shit I thought was going to help him, ended up in jail. Got eight years and he showed up to visit, pretty much cut me out of his life.”

His hand traveled to his chest where the scar remained from his old tattoo, rubbing at his skin.

“I broke out, found him, told him to come with me to Mexico and the son of a bitch did. Came with me all the way to the border before dumping my ass _again_.”

“That’s rough,” Connor nodded, the sympathy in his voice genuine. “You still came back for him though. Here in prison.”

“He’s under my skin, man,” Mickey sighed, remembering the last time he’d spoken those words.

“So why won’t you visit him now?”

“I don’t know,” Mickey said before sending him another glare. “Why do you give a shit about any of this, man? I don’t care how good a friend you and Ronnie are.”

“Maybe because I care what happens to you,” Connor shrugged.

“Why? What the fuck do you want?”

“Does someone always have to want something from you if they show you kindness?”

When Mickey stayed silent, Connor sighed and turned to fully face him.

“I don’t want anything from you. I’ve gotten to know you behind these walls and I think you’re a good kid.”

Mickey snorted as he shook his head. “Open your eyes, man. I’m no angel.”

“Never said you were,” Connor argued, tossing the next folded sheet into his bin. “Just think you’re a decent kid who had a shitty life.”

Mickey watched him a moment longer before looking away.

“So you’re worried, right?” Connor asked after several beats of silence. “Worried he’ll walk away again?”

“Got a lot of reasons to think that,” Mickey shrugged.

“Do the past two years not count?”

“We were in here together, man. Not like he had anywhere to go or any better prospects,” Mickey muttered.

Connor stopped to face him again. “Do you really believe that, kid?”

When Mickey didn’t answer, Connor yanked his sheet to grab his attention.

“A week before he got out, when you were visiting your son and sister, Ian came to me at my cell before my shift here. All but begged me to look out for you, make sure you got out of here in one piece,” he said, letting the sheet fall back to the table. “Does that sound like someone who’s out there getting off with someone else?”

“Why the fuck we even talking about this shit? What are you, my shrink?” Mickey grumbled.

Connor chuckled as he walked around the table behind them, grabbing a new stack.

“Trust isn’t easy for people like us. People who grew up where we did, in broken homes,” he started, meeting Mickey’s eyes. “I get it. I get that you’re nervous. I get that you’re guarded. But I got to know him just like I got to know you. Give him a chance, Mickey. The way that boy would look at you? It’s really something, kid.”

He gave a wink as he pushed his full bin to the end of the room, Mickey watching on in silence.

  
********

“Hey Mandy,” Ian smiled, giving her a small hug as he walked into her apartment.

“Want a drink?” she asked, tossing her blond locks over her shoulder as she moved to her kitchen.

“Water’s fine, thanks.”

She tossed him a bottle and grabbed one for herself as they sat on the sofa, turning towards each other.

“I went to visit him again today. He wouldn’t see me,” Ian said, sighing heavily as he pressed the side of his face to the edge of the couch. “Being with each other every day, holding him, kissing him. It was perfect, minus the prison part. But now he won't see me. I’m worried."

Mandy snorted sadly, tucking her legs beneath her body.

“When Mickey went to jail for Sammi, I went to see him a couple times in the beginning. When he realized you were done, he asked me not to come anymore,” she started, watching him with a hard look in her eyes. “I hated you for a long time. Did you know that?”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he stayed silent as he nodded.

“You were my best friend and I loved you. I still love you now but he’s my brother,” she said, releasing a deep breath. “Did you know he was the only one who tried to get between me and Terry when we were kids? Not Tony or Jamie or Joey or Iggy. Only Mick and it was really something since he was already Terry’s favorite punching bag. But he tried, you know? He tried really hard to shield me as much as he could from all that shit.”

She took a sip of her water before leaning back again.

“Those other fuckheads, I guess I love them because they’re family but with Mick, it was different. I actually cared abut him, you know?” she said, smiling faintly. “He ever tell you he helped me with my math and science homework when we were kids?”

“No,” Ian shook his head, smiling softly.

“He was always so smart,” she said, her smile slowly leaving. “Terry would be off on a bender and those other idiots would be busy getting high or some other shit. But Mickey, he’d sit with me on my bed, helping me with math and science. I fucking hated fractions.”

“Everyone did,” Ian chuckled.

“Not Mickey, though,” Mandy shook her head. “He was really good at it. Loved science too.”

She lowered her chin on her arms across the edge of the sofa, looking up at him sadly.

“He had this project when he was around ten. Had to make something for science class,” she started. “I remember he went around the neighbourhood, collecting popsicle sticks and took some used paint from behind Joe’s Hardware on Ninth. Made this pretty awesome thing, I think it was a volcano or something. Beat Lip and won first prize. Ask your brother and he’ll deny it.”

Ian smiled at the memory, his heart hurting when he realized it was a part of Mickey he never knew.

“He was so excited when he won, boasting the whole time as we walked home after school,” she said before her eyes grew dark. “Terry was home, drunk and angry and mean. Ripped the project to pieces, threw the small ribbon Mick had won into the food disposal, tore it to shreds. Mickey started crying and Terry got even more mad. Called him a bunch of names, beat him until he stopped crying. Told him no son of his would give a shit about school. Told him he’d kill him if he ever saw him acting like a little bitch again.”

Mandy looked up to see the tears in Ian’s eyes.

“He all but gave up on school after that,” she said, looking away to stare at the sky through her window.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“He got those tattoos on his knuckles soon after, started hanging out with the shitty guys in our neighbourhood. Started going on runs with Terry. He was eleven fucking years old,” she said, shaking her head.

She took another sip of her water before sitting up, tilting her body to fully face him.

“He’s an asshole. He’s a jerk. He can be mean and rude and a total dumbass,” she started, her eyes hard. “But he’s sweet and smart and funny and gives a shit more than anyone else I’ve known in my life.”

Ian nodded, his mouth unable to form any words.

“He did everything he could to help you, Ian, when you first got diagnosed. Shit, he helped you even more than your own family did and you tossed him aside.”

“I know,” he tried but she cut him off.

“No, Ian, I don’t think you really get it,” she said, her voice firm but without malice. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for him to say those words to you? To tell you he loved you after all those years of getting hit, all those years of hearing that homophobic bullshit and you threw it back in his face?”

Ian looked away at her words, feeling the weight of his past mistakes all over again.

“You abandoned him in prison, forgot you ever knew him and then started taking your meds anyway,” she said, laughing without humor. “He came _out_ for you, Ian. Did you ever fully understand what that meant, for him to do that?”

He rubbed his hand across his eyes, feeling the wetness press against his fingers.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Ian. I’m not trying to make you guilty or sad. I just need you to understand,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm. “He broke out and came to you. Yeah, I admit it wasn’t the brightest fucking idea but you didn’t have to go with him. You could have told him no but you didn’t. You went with him all the way to the border and left him all over again. Fuck you for that, Ian.”

He nodded at her words, hearing the sadness behind them more than any bite.

“You really wonder why he doesn’t want to see you?” she said as he turned his gaze back to her. “He doesn’t trust you not to fuck up again. He doesn’t trust you not to walk away and don’t use the bipolar as an excuse. The cheating, the porno, running off with Yev, those you could pin on the disease. But he was in it for the long haul, even after all that. He knew it wouldn’t be easy and still wanted to be with you, to take care of you. But dumping him like that? Leaving him in prison? Mexico? That shit hurt him, Ian. It really did.”

“I know,” he said, wiping at his tears again.

She moved closer on the sofa, pulling his hands into hers as he smiled at her show of comfort.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he shrugged.

“For a long time, I wanted him to walk away from you. To start somewhere fresh without you in his life. I love you, Ian, but I love that shithead more.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” he smiled sadly.

“But I never said anything,” she cut in. “I never said anything because you’re a part of him, Ian. It’s like he breathes when you do.”

“Mandy, it’s the same for me,” he said, sitting up and tightening their hands. “Since I got out, I can’t sleep at night. The spot beside me in bed is empty and cold. My head and my heart are both still with him behind those bars. I love him so much, Mandy. I love him so fucking much and I know I fucked up. I know I hurt him and I hate myself for it so much, you don’t even know. But I want to fix it because me and him, we’re it.”

She took a breath at his words as he rubbed his tears away against his shoulder, not wanting to let her hands go.

“I want to fix it so badly but I don’t know how. He won’t believe my words.”

“You guys were always good in bed. I speak from experience,” she said, giving him a playful glare and he smiled, grateful at her effort to lighten the mood. “But outside of that, you need to show him that you’re in this for the long haul. You _are_ in this for the long haul, right?”

“Forever, Mandy. He’s it for me. Always.”

She nodded before snorting, a small smile curving her lips upward. “Maybe don’t use those sappy words.”

Ian chuckled as he finally let her hands go, reaching for his bottle and taking a sip.

“I just keep thinking if I can find us an apartment before he gets out, make it feel like a home, maybe he’d believe me then.”

She watched him thoughtfully for a moment. “No vacancies?”

“Plenty of vacancies but the options all sucked. Shitty, shittier, shittiest,” he sighed.

“Who were you apartment hunting with?”

“Lip,” Ian admitted.

“Well there’s your fucking problem,” she laughed. “He sucks at everything. I’ll go with you. I’m off from work tomorrow so I have some free time.”

“Escort business gives you time off?” he teased.

“No, Shithead!” she snapped, punching his arm with a laugh. “I got out of that months ago.”

“What? How come I didn’t know?” he asked, sitting up in his seat.

“Only Mickey does. I asked him to keep quiet in case it didn’t work out,” she shrugged.

“Well, what are you doing? Come on, Mandy!” he pressed.

“Nothing huge just a receptionist at a real estate office.”

"That’s amazing!” he said, his genuine smile making her own grow.

“Thanks,” she blushed before shaking the emotions away. “One of my regulars before, his brother owns the place. My client got me the job when I told him I wanted a different life.”

“I’m really glad, Mandy,” he said, leaning in to hug her.

They pulled back and she stretched her arms before jumping to her feet.

“Doesn’t it work out for you even better now where I work? I got the hook ups for all the best listings,” she grinned. “Let me go grab my laptop.”

He watched her rush to her bedroom before sinking against the cushions, feeling his hope finally coming back.


	4. FOUR

*****

Sitting in his bottom bunk, Mickey gently slammed the back of his head against the concrete wall. He had expected another month behind bars to give him the time he needed to straighten his thoughts. Getting released ahead of schedule for overcrowding left him eager to leave but nervous to go. After ignoring Ian’s visit the previous week, Mickey had called his sister when news broke out of his early release. He’s asked her to pick him up on her own, not to make any sort of fuss. When she’d agreed before saying goodbye, a part of him knew she had lied.

All of his heart and the biggest part of his mind wanted him to walk out those doors and straight into Ian’s arms, to believe the Ginger when he declared his love. But that small voice in his head, the one that often belonged to his Father, telling him he was nothing, that he would never be enough, that voice kept his fears on the forefront. He wanted to believe Ian was sincere this time, that their problems would no longer keep them apart but the doubt had continued to fester every day he spent alone behind those bars.

“Milkovich!”

The voice startled him into the present, forcing him to glance at the waiting guards as the cell door burst open.

“Let’s go, Sunshine,” one of them grunted, moving back for Mickey to step out.

He hesitated for another moment, staring around himself at the cell he had called home with Ian for two years.

“You want me to close the doors and keep you here?” the same guard chuckled.

Taking a deep breath, he rose to his feet and gave his snoring cellmate a harsh smack on his leg before following the guards down the hall. The other prisoners hooted and laughed, some patting his shoulder, others cursing him out. As they made their way towards the ground floor, Mickey’s eyes caught Connor and Ronan leaning against one of the cells.

“Time for you to go, kid,” Ronan smirked.

Glancing back at the guards who rolled their eyes but waited, Mickey reached out to pat both men on their shoulders.

“Thanks, you know?” he said, clearing his throat.

“It’s alright, kid,” Connor’s smile softened. “Keep your head on straight out there, Mickey. I don’t want to see you back in here again.”

Nodding quietly, he glanced between their faces a final time before following the guards through the gates. Once he’d changed his clothes, back into the jeans and black sleeveless tee he’d transferred in with, he signed the papers ensuring his freedom and walked down the final hall. As the gates buzzed open, the sudden flash of light made him stumble backwards. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the gates and lowered his hand. Standing several yards away, he made out the faces of his sister and Ian, both smiling while Yevgeny and Lana stood beside them. Shuffled to the side were Lip, Debbie and Carl, the eldest Gallagher watching him with his signature scowl. His eyes traveled between the group, lingering on Ian before he lowered his gaze to his son.

“Hey Little Man.”

The words seemed to push Yevgeny into action, sending the boy barreling forward until he had jumped into Mickey’s arms. Shocked by the sudden embrace, Mickey stood frozen for several seconds until his arms slowly wrapped around his son. Lifting the boy up, he held him close to his chest, lowering his mouth to press a kiss against his temple. Overwhelmed by the sudden emotion that flooded through him, he looked up just as Mandy slipped her arms around them both, her eyes glazed over like his. Even Lip managed to look away, oddly touched by the quiet moment.

Ian watched the reunion from his spot, yearning to reach out and pull them into his own arms. Glancing at Lana, she gave him a nod of encouragement before pushing him forward towards them. Once he was close enough, Ian reached out and gently placed his hand at the back of Mickey’s neck, the touch making the other man lift his gaze upwards. They stared at one another for several beats, neither willing to break the spell they were under until Mandy chuckled and twisted her way out. Looking away from Ian, Mickey glanced back at his son, his heart warming in a way he never thought he’d be capable of when it came to his child.

“Come Yevgeny,” Lana waved, ushering their son back towards her.

“I’m glad you’re out Mickey,” Debbie said, giving him a small smile.

Knowing Mickey needed a minute, Ian let his hand fall down to his side, turning towards the rest. “How about you guys all head back. We’ll take the second car.”

“Dad, no! Come with me!” Yev shouted, rushing back to take Mickey’s hand.

Giving Ian a quick glance, he smiled at his kid and followed him towards the second car. Lip, Debbie and Carl climbed into the first, pulling away from the prison with a honk. Once Lana and Yev were settled in the back, Mickey came to follow but suddenly stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Mandy asked, moving to the passenger side.

Looking up at her with a smirk, he turned back towards the prison where the guards on duty were pacing outside.

“Fuck you!” he shouted, tilting his gaze towards the tower. “Fuck _you_!”

Ian and Mandy chuckled at his outburst as Mickey opened his arms to the prison as a whole.

“And especially fuck you!”

The guards started cursing in response but Mickey laughed over their voices and climbed in the car, taking in Lana’s amused smile.

“Dad, you owe three dollars to the swear jar!” Yev whispered.

“Best three bucks I ever spent,” he smirked.

As he relaxed in his seat, listening to Yev ramble about the new friends he’d made in school, Mickey lifted his gaze to the rear view mirror and saw Ian’s smile. Reminded of the doubts that still plagued his mind, Mickey forced himself to glance away, missing the worried look Ian gave him from the front.

The moment they walked through the doors of the Alibi, Kevin smacked his hand on the bar to get the gathered crowd’s attention.

“Mickey!” he shouted, his voice booming over the noise. “Welcome home, my friend!”

The rest of the crowd cheered his arrival before quickly going about their own business.

“Yevgeny, we stay here for a little while. Then we go home,” Lana said, moving to stand between her son and ex-husband.

“But Mama, I want to stay with Dad!”

“No Mama,” Lana exclaimed, her stern voice leaving no room for argument. “Your Papa is tired and almost time for your sleep.”

The boy groaned in disappointment but followed Mandy to one of the tables where the food had been laid out. Before Mickey could open his mouth, an arm snaked around his shoulders and a pair of lips pressed against his cheek.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” V said with a bright smile.

“Since when do you give a shit that I’m out?” he snorted.

“Since I realized you and Ginger are true love,” she sang. “He’s family and that means you’re family too.”

Ian chuckled beside him, the sound making Mickey aware of his presence.

“You sure you haven’t been snorting something on the side?” Mickey muttered.

V simply laughed and made her way back to Kevin behind the bar.

“What the fuck, man?” he grumbled. “Why are there so many damn people here?”

“Came for free food,” Lana shrugged.

“Thanks,” he said, giving her a fake smile when he felt Ian gently squeeze his arm.

“Hi.”

Swallowing hard, he looked up and nodded.

“Can we talk, Mick?” Ian started, taking a step closer.

Mickey quickly turned towards Lana. “They’re leaving soon. Let me talk to her for a bit.”

Without waiting for Ian’s response, he took Lana’s arm and led her towards the bar. Sighing in defeat, Ian turned around to see Lip watching him with a raised brow. Glaring at his oldest brother, he walked past him and took the empty seat next to Debbie.

“You okay, Ian?” she asked, lowering her phone.

“Yeah, I guess,” he muttered.

“Come on, talk to me. What’s up?”

Sighing again, he leaned back against his chair. “I haven’t even kissed him yet. There’s distance between us and I hate it.”

“Just give him some time. Maybe he’s just adjusting,” she suggested.

“It’s more than that. I’m worried,” he said, glancing back towards the bar where Mickey and Lana were huddled together. “I feel like I’m losing him.”

“Ian, we’ve all known Mickey for a lot of years and if it’s one thing I know about the guy, it’s that he loves you something fierce,” she said, her words drawing Ian’s gaze back to her. “Just give him some time.”

He nodded and offered his sister a small smile but the worry he felt continued to twist him on the inside.

“Why are you so cold to Carrot Boy?” Lana asked.

“How’s Gerry?” Mickey changed the subject.

When she raised her brow in confusion, Mickey rolled his eyes.

“Your geriatric viagroid husband?”

“You think you are funny but you are not,” she snapped, her voice more amused than biting. “Small man makes jokes.”

Before he could turn his glare into a reply, Kevin slid in front of them with a beer.

“Here you go Mickey,” he smiled, showing his teeth. “Hey Lana.”

She raised a single brow and he slowly backed away.

“Why the fuck is he afraid of you? I thought you sorted your shit out with them.”

“I am Russian,” she replied as if the words held meaning for everything.

“So? I’m fucking Ukrainian.”

“Ukraine is Russia’s little bitch,” she snorted, stealing his beer and taking a sip.

“Say that one more time,” he spat.

Instead of stepping back, Lana released a sudden laugh. “I missed you, idiot ex-husband.”

Uncomfortable by her show of emotion, he turned his glare towards Kevin. “How are you afraid of my ex-wife, man? You're seven fucking feet of muscle.”

“Size isn’t everything!” Kevin argued.

“Try telling yourself that,” Ian’s voice came from behind.

Turning around, Mickey watched as Ian blushed at his own words. He raised his brow as Ian moved closer, his torso brushing against Mickey’s as he signalled Kevin for a beer.

“Size matters, huh?” he asked, taking a shaky breath when Ian leaned back and stared down into his eyes.

“You know it does,” Ian whispered, his gaze lowering when Mickey bit his lip.

“Get a room, you two!” Kevin teased, sliding the beer towards Ian. “By that, I don’t mean the bathroom!”

Flipping the gangly man his finger, he avoided Ian’s gaze and turned back to Lana.

“I don’t want to mess with his schedule or nothing but can we maybe set some time for me to see the kid?”

“You are his father. That has not changed,” she answered, her voice firm. “Tomorrow, you come, we go to park.”

“Thanks Lana,” he nodded.

Leaning in, she pressed a kiss against his cheek and Mickey forced himself to accept the touch. Grabbing his beer and giving a wink, she slid away from the bar and Ian immediately took her place.

“You look tired,” he said, wanting to pull Mickey against him but keeping his hands to himself.

“No shit, man. Not like I fucking slept the past month.”

A smile warmed Ian’s face at the unintended words. Rolling his eyes, Mickey looked away as Mandy walked to them.

“Am I staying with you tonight?” he asked her.

“No!” Ian cut in, the sudden outburst making Mickey turn back. “Mick, you’re coming home with me.”

“Thanks for the offer but I could do without some noise tonight and your fucking house is always packed.”

“Mickey, no,” Ian shook his head. “I meant you’re coming home with me to _our_ place. I got us an apartment.”

Mickey stared at him with his eyes opened wide, doing his best to make sense of Ian’s words.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Mandy added.

“You helped pick it out?” he asked, switching his gaze to his sister.

“You bet! It’s a total dump, Mick. You’ll love it,” she teased and turned to Ian. “I’m gonna steal him for a minute. Be right back.”

Grabbing her brother’s arm, she led Mickey towards an empty table as Ian watched them go. Pushing him down into the seat, she quickly dropped onto his lap and locked her arms around his neck.

“What the fuck! Get off me!” he struggled.

“Not until I get this out,” she argued, her grip hard enough that he sighed. “Mick, I think he’s all in this time.”

“Alright, fine, thank you Dr. Phil. Will you get the fuck off me now?” he snapped.

“Stop struggling, Mick. You know I can take you.”

“Bitch, you wish!” he muttered, his words making her laugh.

“I’m being serious, alright?” she tried again. “I believe him, Mick. All he thinks about is you.”

“Yeah, alright,” he said, looking away.

Mandy took a moment to gauge his expression before turning his head towards her. “We’re free, Mick.”

“Yeah, I just got out of prison a few hours ago. Think I got that fucking memo.”

“I mean, we’re free of _him_ ,” she clarified, watching him swallow nervously as he avoided her eyes. “He’s in prison, Mick. He’s not in our lives anymore. You can breathe now.”

He let out a sigh, running his hand across his tired eyes. “I look at the kid, you know? See the bullshit we put him through when he was younger. I was a shit dad to him. Probably still am.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” she spoke quietly, ignoring his scoff. “Mickey, what happened that day, I’m glad you finally told me because now I can tell you this. It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t Yev’s fault either.”

“I couldn’t even look at the kid before,” he said, looking across the bar at Ian who was watching them with glazed eyes.

“It’s different now. You’re different. You love him.”

He nodded absently at her words. “I can’t ever let that piece of shit near the kid. Not ever.”

“He’ll never get close enough,” she promised. “He has his awesome Aunt to look out for him. He has his crazy, scary Mama Lana and he has his Dad, the toughest guy in all of South Side.”

“Maybe once,” he snorted.

“You still are, Mick. You’re just freer now,” she said before another smile filled her face. “Plus, for whatever it’s worth, the Gallagher’s have his back too. You know Ian does.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mickey nodded. “Lip is useless but Debs and Carl are alright.”

Her smile softened and she waited until his eyes met hers before speaking again. “I want to tell you something else and I need you to hear it, okay?”

“Jesus, Mandy, what?”

“I love you.”

He quickly tried to push her off but she held her ground and tightened her grip around his shoulders with a laugh.

“Stop that shit, you skank!”

“Dickbreath!”

“Bitch!”

“Asshole!”

They both broke out in grins as she finally rose to her feet. “Go home with Ian, Mick. All he wants to do is love you and worship your ass. Let him.”

Rolling his eyes, he waved her away but she reached from behind and pulled him into a hug, the whole bar gushing at the sight.

“Get the fuck off me!” he growled, raising his finger to the crowd.

As Mandy rose to her feet, Lana walked up with a sleepy Yevgeny in her arms.

“We say goodnight. You call tomorrow. We go to park.”

Leaning down, he brushed his son’s hair out of his face as Yev gave a tired smile.

“Love you Dad.”

Biting his lip, Mickey took a deep breath and pressed a kiss against his temple. “Love you too, Little Man.”

Lana gave him a final smile as she and Mandy made their way out of the bar. Taking a deep breath, he startled when he felt someone press up behind him. Ian quickly took a step back but Mickey reached behind him to pull the Ginger close again.

“Fuck,” he whispered as Ian let his hands linger on Mickey’s waist.

“Want to go home now?”

Taking another deep breath, Mickey finally nodded. “Yeah, let’s get the hell out of here.”

Their goodbyes were quick to everyone inside, Ian thanking them kindly while Mickey gave his finger a second time. When they were back in the car, driving away from the bar, Mickey reached for a smoke from the center console, inhaling his first breath with a quiet moan. Ian snapped his gaze towards him, watching him for a moment before focusing back on the road.

By the time they had parked and made their way to the seventh floor, Ian unlocked the door and walked inside, switching on the light and turning back with a nervous smile. Locking the door behind them, he brushed past Mickey and moved towards the kitchen.

“So kitchen’s here and the living room, obviously,” he chuckled. “There’s a bedroom on this end, I figure we can decorate it for Yev when he sleeps over. Bathroom in the hall and the master bedroom’s down that way. Has it’s own bathroom too.”

Swallowing anxiously, he turned towards Mickey and froze when he followed his gaze. Moving past Ian to the spot between the kitchen and the hallway leading to Yev’s bedroom, Mickey stared at the framed photos that were pinned to the wall. The first photo was one of Yevgeny, sitting on Lana’s lap as they smiled at the camera. The second was Mandy, looking over her shoulder as she tossed her blonde locks to the side. One was of Ian’s family, with Fiona, Lip, Carl, Debbie, Franny and Liam all curled around each other. The final photo was one of Mickey and Ian, standing with their arms around one another. Mickey’s face was steered towards the camera while Ian was watching him with a smile.

“When was this from?” Mickey managed, reaching out to touch the last photo.

“We were at our place. Remember that barbecue Fiona did?”

“Before everything went to shit?” Mickey asked.

Sighing softly, Ian nodded. “Yeah, Mick, before everything went to shit.”

Stepping away from the wall, he tilted his head towards the back hallway. “Gonna take a shower.”

Not waiting for a response, he made his way to the master bedroom, his eyes catching on the large bed that took up most of the room. Opening the closet door, he grabbed the first towel he found and slipped inside the bathroom. Switching the shower on, he leaned against the sink and finally met his reflection in the mirror. He stood that way for several moments, taking in his appearance and calming his raging heart. When his nerves had finally grown quiet, he stripped out of his clothes and slipped under the scorching water.

Ian planted himself on the sofa, burying his face in his hands as he waited. His mind worked a mile a minute, going over everything from the night, desperate to find a way through to the other man. When he heard the shower shutting off, he sat up on the cushions, keeping his back towards the hallway. A minute later, he heard the quiet footsteps as Mickey walked back into the room.

“Are you hungry?” Ian asked, lifting from the couch but keeping his back to him. “I could whip something up if you want.”

“Ian.”

Taking a shaky breath, Ian slowly turned around and froze. Mickey was standing with a white towel wrapped around his waist, his hair standing on ends and his body still went from the shower. They watched each other for several long seconds before Mickey finally smiled.

“You gonna get on me or what, Firecrotch?”

Making a primal noise straight from his gut, Ian closed the distance between them in three giant strides, lifting Mickey off the ground and pinning him to the wall, silencing the startled cry with a bruising kiss.

“Fuck, Mick,” he whispered, letting his hands roam around the body he always craved. “I thought I was losing you.”

“You’re under my skin, remember?” Mickey said, trailing his hands to Ian’s hair.

Pressing his lips to Mickey’s neck, Ian wrapped his arms tight around the smaller man, inhaling the scent he loved so much. They stood pressed against each other for several minutes, neither willing to pull away. Finally tilting his head, Ian started peppering the skin beneath him with small kisses.

“Come on, man. Get on me,” Mickey panted.

Smiling against his skin, Ian pulled back and stared into his eyes, his own pupils wide and dark. Lowering his hands to the towel, he slowly slipped the material off and let it fall to the ground before dropping to his knees. Without any warning, he took Mickey in his mouth and gripped the backs of his thighs. Slamming the back of his head against the wall, Mickey pushed his hands back through Ian’s hair, closing his eyes as pleasure moved through his body.

“Ian, stop,” he whispered. “I’m too wound up. I want you in me.”

Pulling off with a final lick, Ian rose back to his feet and hoisted Mickey into his arms, helping the other man wrap his legs around his waist.

“I’d bitch at you if I wasn’t dying right now,” Mickey muttered as Ian carried them inside the bedroom with a smirk.

Instead of tossing Mickey onto the bed like he normally would, he placed one knee on the mattress and slowly lowered his boyfriend down.

“How do you want me?” Mickey managed, his voice cracking.

“Just like this,” Ian said, standing up to rip his clothes off before slowly lowering his naked body back down.

When they pressed together for the first time in weeks, both of them groaned from the touch. Crushing their lips together in a heated kiss, Ian trailed his hand downward and pressed a finger against the tender spot.

“Hurry up, Gallagher. I’m not gonna last!”

“I wanna take my time with you,” Ian smiled.

“You can take your fucking time on round two. Get the fuck in me!”

Laughing through the burst of happiness he felt, Ian reached for the small bottle of lube in the nightstand and slicked his fingers. Mickey planted his feet flat on the bed, widening his legs and tossing his head from side to side as Ian opened him one finger at a time.

“I’m good, I’m good. Get in me,” Mickey panted.

Swallowing hard, Ian pulled his fingers away and lined himself up, sliding into the tight heat with a single thrust. He silenced the moan from Mickey’s throat by pressing their lips back together. When Mickey finally gave him the nod, he pulled his body out before slamming back in.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” Ian whispered as their bodies rocked together.

Wrapping his legs around Ian’s waist, Mickey ran his nails up and down his muscled back. Groaning from the pleasure the touch left on his skin, Ian buried his face into Mickey’s neck, biting him hard.

“Are you mine?” his voice broke through the fog. “Mick, look at me.”

Opening his eyes despite the nickname, Mickey slid a hand into Ian’s hair, tugging on the ends and pushing him closer in his arms.

“Fuck, Mickey, tell me you’re mine.”

“You really gotta ask me that?” Mickey panted, letting his lips travel down Ian’s neck to his collarbone. “Fucking always, Gallagher.”

Pulling his boyfriend’s face back to his, he pushed his tongue into the warmth of Mickey’s mouth. He thrusted once, twice and a final time, biting hard on Mickey’s neck as he sent him over the edge. The look of pleasure on Mickey’s face sent Ian tumbling after. Wrapped around each other tightly, Ian held his body up on trembling hands. When Mickey kissed his temple and ran a loving hand down his back, whispering that he welcomed the weight, Ian gently pulled out and lowered himself down. They swapped lazy kisses for several seconds as their heartbeats started to calm. When he felt wetness against his cheek, Mickey pushed Ian’s face back and frowned.

“The fuck, Ian? You crying?”

Lifting up and sitting with his legs spread out, he dragged Mickey up from the bed and onto his lap, letting his arms pull the other man tight against his chest.

“You’re freaking me the fuck out,” Mickey said quietly.

“I can’t believe I almost lost this,” Ian whispered into his neck.

“You and your fucking emotional shit,” Mickey snorted but his touch was gentle as he pressed a kiss against his shoulder. “We’re here, now, alright?”

Pulling back to lock their gazes together, Ian wiped at his eyes with a smile. “You know I fucking love you more than anything, right?”

Biting his lip, Mickey slowly nodded. “Love you too."

They met in the middle and their lips touched in a sweet kiss. Pressing their foreheads together, Ian ran his hands down Mickey’s back until they reached his bottom.

“Ready for round two?” he smiled.

“Fuck, yeah! We ain’t leaving this bed until we’re all fucked out.”

“Gonna be a long night,” Ian smirked, leaning in and claiming Mickey’s lips with his own.


	5. FIVE

*****

Ian’s peaceful face drew into a scowl when he reached across the bed and found the spot beside him empty. Opening his eyes, he blinked his tiredness away and slowly sat up.

“Mick?”

Tossing the covers aside, he reached for his boxers and tugged them on. Making his way out of the bedroom, the worry he felt fell away when he saw Mickey standing in his own boxers at the far end of the living space, staring at the photos on the wall. Smiling softly, he quietly made his way over and slipped his arms around Mickey’s waist, the other man jumping at the sudden touch.

“Morning,” Ian whispered, leaning down to kiss his boyfriend’s bare shoulder. “It’s early. Why are you up?”

“Prison time,” Mickey chuckled, lifting his hands to curl over Ian’s. “Couldn’t really sleep.”

“Are you nervous about today?” Ian asked, peering down from behind.

“I don’t know. I guess. My last parole officer was a ray of fucking sunshine.”

“Mine’s not too bad,” Ian chuckled. “She’s an older lady, seems like she cares. I’m sure yours will be alright too.”

Mickey snorted but pressed back against Ian’s chest.

“Come on, let’s go back to bed,” Ian said, trailing his lips across Mickey’s neck and shoulders. “We have time. I wanna fuck you again.”

“Didn’t get your fix last night?” Mickey snorted but the breathless words gave him away.

“I always want you,” Ian said, kissing his neck a final time. “Always, Baby.”

Groaning loudly, Mickey pulled away and turned to face him. “You gotta put the brakes on this nickname shit.”

“You liked it in prison,” Ian defended, his smile amused.

“Does this fucking look like prison?”

“So you can call me Red and Firecrotch, but I can’t give you a nickname?” Ian pouted, walking Mickey backwards to the bedroom.

“You call me Mick. Stick with that.”

“That’s your name!” Ian laughed, pushing Mickey onto the mattress and quickly climbing on top to push himself down.

“Fuck,” Mickey groaned, letting his hands travel up Ian’s back until his fingers tangled in his hair. “If it’ll quit you from whining, pick a fucking name.q Fuck, do that again.”

Ian smiled against his neck, lifting up to peel Mickey’s boxers off before ridding his own. Before Mickey could pull him down again, Ian slid in the space at his back, pulling their bodies flush together, spooning Mickey from behind. Mickey lifted his thigh to give Ian the space, pressing his head against the pillow as Ian let his fingers do the work. He lasted just a few seconds before Mickey was clawing at his arm.

“I’m good. Just get in me.”

“So impatient,” Ian smiled and slid inside.

They groaned together as their hands tangled over Mickey’s chest, holding onto one another tightly.

“You feel so good, Mick. You feel so fucking good. I can’t get enough of you,” Ian panted against his neck, rocking his hips forward and letting his teeth bite down and bruise the skin.

Untangling one of his hands, Mickey pushed his fingers through Ian’s hair, holding his head in place against his skin. A sudden perfect thrust made him jolt forward, his moan echoing in the room.

“That’s it, Baby. Just feel me,” Ian whispered.

“Fuck, pick another one,” Mickey stuttered.

Smiling through the pleasure that was building in his body, Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey even tighter, pressing his lips behind his boyfriend’s ear and taking a bite.

“How about I call you muffin?”

“ _Ian_ ,” Mickey moaned, arching his back as Ian started rocking his hips even harder. “Don’t call me a fucking pastry!”

Chuckling at the broken words, Ian turned Mickey’s head to press their lips together. “What about Boo?”

“Not unless… _fuck_ …you wanna die.”

With a desperate need to feel closer, Ian quickly pulled out and silenced Mickey’s protests with a bruising kiss, pushing the other man on his back. Lifting Mickey’s legs and wrapping them around his upper back, he slid his own arms around Mickey’s body, pushing into the tight heat that felt like home.

“What about Gorgeous?”

“I’ll fucking push you off and finish myself up,” Mickey grumbled.

“Honey? Sweetie?” Ian panted, capturing Mickey’s lips with his own again, letting his tongue taste the sweet warmth inside his boyfriend’s mouth.

“I’ll swear off sex for a fucking week if you keep this shit up!” Mickey challenged.

The words had the desired effect. Growling at the thought, Ian rose to sit with his legs bent under him, pulling Mickey up into his arms and slamming up into him. Their lips stayed pressed together, breathing each other’s air just as Ian reached down. A couple strokes and a twist of his wrist, Mickey fell off the edge with a broken cry. The sound was enough to let Ian follow, his thrusts growing shallow as they came down from their high. With his legs still wrapped around Ian’s body, Mickey let their lips touch in a gentle kiss, one arm trapped between their chests while his other hand pressed against Ian’s cheek. Letting his arms spread around Mickey’s shoulders, Ian smiled as they pressed their foreheads together, their heartbeats growing calm. Finally pulling out, he smiled when Mickey fell backwards with a breathless huff. Using one of their boxers to wipe them clean, he tossed it aside and lowered himself down onto his boyfriend’s body. Mickey invited the weight like always, slipping a hand into Ian’s hair while the other reached for the sheet to cover them from the cold.

“I love you,” Ian whispered, pressing a kiss to Mickey’s heart. “Let me call you something. Please?”

“Fuck, you’re still on that?” Mickey grumbled but his voice held a hint of fondness. “Stick to the first one then.”

Smiling happily, Ian leaned up on one shoulder and gazed down. “I can call you Baby?”

“Not in public!” Mickey warned. “All I need is your fucking brother or one of _my_ fucking brothers hearing you say that shit.”

“Alright, I get it,” Ian nodded. “I’ll stick with Mick or Mickey on the outside. But behind closed doors, I can call you Baby.”

“If you fucking gotta,” Mickey groaned.

“Yes, I fucking gotta,” Ian’s smile grew gentle, holding Mickey’s face so their eyes would lock. “I love you, Baby.”

Flushing at the words, Mickey shook his head and pulled Ian down into a kiss. Once they had their fill of each other’s taste, Ian fell backwards and turned on his side, facing Mickey who did the same. They let their hands caress one another’s bodies, enjoying the silence until Mickey bit his lower lip.

“Hey, I need to tell you something,” he started.

Frowning slightly, Ian stopped his touches and waited.

“I know I was distant and shit after you got out.”

“Mickey, that’s okay,” Ian tried but the other man shook his head to cut him off.

“Man, let me get this out, alright?” he asked, swallowing hard when Ian nodded. “You gave me no reason to think you were gonna skip out or whatever. We were together, inside, for two years.”

Ian watched him patiently, understanding Mickey’s need to sort his thoughts out.

“I’m saying I’m sorry, alright?” Mickey said, sighing. “My head was messed up. I’m sorry.”

“Look at me,” Ian started, smiling when Mickey rolled his eyes. “I gave you lots of reasons to doubt me. _I’m_ sorry.”

“I told you to stop apologizing for that shit,” Mickey grumbled.

“I made you feel like you weren’t good enough, Mick,” Ian said, his voice so quiet that Mickey closed his mouth. “I made you think I didn’t want you. I didn’t love you. That there was someone better out there for me than you.”

He took a deep breath and caught Mickey’s eyes.

“We’ve been through hell and back together. We’ve hurt each other but we’re here now, together, finally. You’re everything I want and need. Do you believe me?”

“Yeah, man,” Mickey whispered.

“Do you believe me when I say I love you?”

“Yeah,” Mickey nodded, his voice shaking.

“Do you believe me when I say I want this life with you?”

“Fucking sap,” Mickey muttered but the glaze in his eyes gave him away.

Taking Mickey’s face, Ian leaned even closer until their noses brushed. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Mickey whispered, closing the small distance and letting their lips touch.

They kissed for several minutes, their hands caressing each other again as their legs tangled beneath the sheet.

“This bed's really fucking comfortable,” Mickey said when they leaned away for air.

Laughing at the odd comment, Ian tilted his head back with a smile. “I forgot to tell you. It was a gift from Kevin and V. The frame is second hand but the mattress is new.”

“They bought us a fucking mattress?” Mickey asked, his brows raising to his hairline.

“Well, originally they bought a gift basket that had different flavors of lube and a bunch of dildos.”

“The fuck!” Mickey snapped.

“Honest,” Ian chuckled before letting his hand travel past Mickey’s waist to his cheek, massaging the skin hard. “But when I politely told them that the only dick going in your body, real or fake, would be mine, they got the hint and bought the mattress.”

“Fucking possessive,” Mickey grumbled, hoping to hide the flush he felt at the words.

“Damn right,” Ian growled, his earlier easiness washing away as he pinned Mickey down onto the bed again. “You’re mine, Mick. Not trying to sound like an asshole but you _are_ mine and I’m yours. About fucking time everyone else understood that.”

“You want to piss on me too while you’re at it, mark your fucking territory?” Mickey laughed.

“Don’t give me ideas,” Ian smirked, leaning in for another kiss. “You need to catch your breath or are you good to go again, old man?”

He silenced Mickey’s protests when his hand reached down between them.

********

“How many fucking hickeys did you give me?” Mickey grumbled, staring at his neck in the car mirror. “You’re lucky they’re below the collar.”

Ian simply shrugged, tilting his head to him with a wide smile. “You look good marked up like that.”

Rolling his eyes, Mickey pressed on the gas when the light turned green and pulled to a stop at the Alibi.

“Good luck with the parole officer. Are you going to swing by here after? I’m on shift for six hours.”

“Yeah, I’ll probably need to get drunk once I meet whatever fucking idiot I got assigned,” Mickey sighed. “Go on, man. I’ll see you later.”

Giving Mickey a quick kiss, Ian climbed out of the car and started making his way towards the bar doors when an ache inside his chest made him turn around. Walking back, he yanked the driver’s door open and pulled a surprised Mickey half out of the car, pressing their lips together in a bruising kiss. When they separated, Mickey took a moment to catch his breath before glancing around them out of instinct.

“What was that for?” he asked, his voice still breathless.

“I’ll miss you,” Ian shrugged, the corners of his mouth ticking up into a smile.

“Get out of here, man. Shit!” Mickey laughed, pushing Ian out of the car and shutting his door. “I gotta go see some asshole about a job.”

They kissed a final time when Kevin’s booming voice cut through their bubble.

“Hey guys!” he shouted, making his way down the sidewalk towards them.

“What’s with the fucking dildos you were gonna give us?” Mickey snapped, his mind still whirling from Ian’s earlier comment.

Kevin made a face as he took a small step towards the Alibi. “Yeah, Ian was all possessive and shit about his dick and your ass. Our bad!”

He quickly slid through the doors as Ian laughed. His smile grew soft when he stared down through the open window.

“What?” Mickey asked.

“It’s just nice, you know?” Ian shrugged. “A few years ago, us talking like this, us kissing like this, out here, it wasn’t possible. Three years ago, we weren’t even…”

“Stop that shit, alright?” Mickey cut him off. “Now gimme another kiss so I can go.”

Smiling brightly, Ian lowered his face through the window. Their faces lingered close to one another for several beats, their cheeks pressed together until Ian finally pulled back. With a wave and quick wink, he made his way inside the Alibi as Mickey took a deep breath and pulled out of the parking lot. By the time he made it halfway across town, he had ten minutes to spare before his meeting. Wasting time drumming his fingers on the wheel, he finally gave in and made his way inside the office.

“Name?” the bored receptionist asked, barely looking up from her computer screen.

“Mickey Milkovich,” he said before clearing his throat. “Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich.”

“I see you on the list. Got released yesterday. Good for fucking you,” she said, her smile never reaching her eyes. “Joe’s ready for you back there.”

Pushing past her desk, he made his way down the hall and stopped inside the open doorway.

“You must be Mickey,” the man started, rising to his feet to usher him inside and shut the door behind them. “Come on in, kid. Take a seat.”

Staring at the older man for a moment, Mickey slowly lowered himself into the chair. Joe took a few seconds to finish reading through the thick folder on his desk before shutting it and sitting back.

“My name’s Joe and I’m your parole officer for the next year, to about a year and a half, depending on how well this all works out,” he started. “Before we get to the good stuff, I will remind you as condition of your release, you will be reporting in person with me once every two weeks to start and then once a month on my approval.”

Mickey nodded and rolled his eyes. “Been through this shit before. Don’t need to go over it again.”

Joe watched him for a moment, taking in Mickey’s quiet anxiousness before continuing.

“I get that, but I still need to do my job,” he reminded. “You will not leave the State of Illinois without permission. You will need to find regular employment. You will not change employment without approval. You will not change your residence without approval. You will abstain from the use of drugs. Alcohol is included but it is the South Side and that’s pretty impossible so I’ll let that one slide. Just no drunk and disorderly.”

He gave Mickey a pointed look before moving on.

“You will not possess firearms or any other dangerous weapons. You will not associate with people who have criminal records,” Joe said before pausing. “Your boyfriend, Ian Gallagher, I guess he would be the exception.”

Mickey looked away, uncomfortable at the other man’s knowledge.

“You will submit to urinalysis and blood testing when instructed and you will obey all State and local laws. Are we clear?”

“Yeah, we’re clear,” Mickey muttered.

“Good,” Joe said, relaxing in his seat. “So, now that we got that out of the way, let’s talk a bit.”

Mickey stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Talk about what? How much I liked prison?”

“Why don’t we talk about your family.”

Shifting in his seat, Mickey’s gaze became a glare. “Not much to talk about. Mom’s dead. I wish my Dad was too but he’s still kicking around here somewhere. Don’t really talk to any of my older brothers, just Iggy. My sister Mandy’s the only one who really gives a shit about me. Picture perfect South Side fucking family. We done?”

Joe clasped his hands together on the desk, watching him briefly before shaking his head. “Your Father did a real number on you, didn’t he?”

Mickey swallowed hard, his eyes narrowing. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Where is Terry these days?” Joe asked, changing tactics.

“How the fuck should I know, man? Around!” Mickey growled, his arms crossing at his chest. “Why do you keep asking about him?”

“I’m asking because I look at you and I don’t see a violent criminal like the one I had this morning, who had bashed a man’s head in with a tire iron and was released early from his sentence because he rolled on someone bigger,” Joe exclaimed, his words making Mickey look away.

Raising the thick folder, Joe shook it before lowering it back down.

“I see a young man who grew up in a bad neighbourhood, in a broken home and made a lot of wrong choices because he could never catch a break. I don’t see a violent criminal.”

“You don’t know me, man!” Mickey argued. “What the fuck does that file say? That my Mom died when I was a kid on a heroin overdose? That I’m the one who found her fucking body? That we got stuck with Terry as the only fucking parent? That I went to juvie a bunch of times? That shit doesn’t mean you know me!”

“Maybe not, but I do know your Father,” Joe replied, continuing when Mickey grew silent. “I used to run with your Dad back in high school. We were pretty tight, us, your Uncle Ronnie, the rest of our crew. We were into social rebellion back then but there was always something else with your Father. Every bone in his body was mean. Started getting into drugs, both dealing and running, boosting cars, breaking bones and so much other shit. I had three younger siblings, an absent Mom and a Father who had skipped out years back. Couldn’t afford going to prison so I stopped hanging out with Terry and the rest. Best decision I ever made.”

Mickey took a deep breath but stayed silent.

“Your Father was mean then, his arrest reports have only proven that he’s even meaner now,” Joe said, leaning forward on his elbows. “His last arrest, breaking probation, was a few years ago. He ended up stabbing another inmate behind bars which added three years to his bid before he got out a while back. But breaking probation, what sent him back inside, that had to do with you.”

“Why are we talking about this stuff, man?” Mickey asked, lowering his gaze to his hands.

“We’re talking about this because I’m trying to see if my read on you was right,” Joe replied. “That fight at the bar, it was instigated when you came out, correct?”

All Mickey could do was nod. Feeling his discomfort, Joe leaned forward even more, smiling gently.

“I’m not judging you. Just trying to get the bigger picture, alright?” he said and when Mickey stayed silent, he took that as acceptance. “That moment must have been liberating.”

“He beat the shit out of me and he’ll probably kill me if I ever run into him again but yeah, liberating as fuck,” Mickey spat before sighing. “I didn’t really give a shit about him anymore after that. He got arrested and me and…we moved on.”

“You and Ian?”

“You already know the answer so why ask again?” Mickey muttered.

“If the information in the files are correct, Mr. Gallagher was diagnosed with bipolar disease, you committed your act of crime against Ms. Sammi Slott which I understand there were mitigating circumstances. That act landed you in prison. You escaped, fled to Mexico, worked for a cartel, turned State evidence over on that same cartel and then came back to Chicago to complete your new sentence.”

“Brownie points for you,” Mickey rolled his eyes.

Smiling, Joe leaned back in his seat. “I’m sorry you had Terry Milkovich as a Father.”

“Whatever, man. Not like I was on the street or nothing. Fuck,” Mickey muttered. “Half the time he wasn’t even in the fucking house, on drug runs or getting trashed somewhere. Me and Mandy and Iggy, we stuck together. The other douchebags, my older brothers, they were assholes like him, into drugs and shit but the three of us, we toughed it out.”

“And the times your Father _was_ home?”

“What do you want me to say? That he would beat the shit out of me?” Mickey snapped, his anger quickly rising. “That he almost killed me when he walked in and saw Ian fucking me? That he hired a prostitute to come fuck the gay out of me while he held a gun to my fucking head?”

Joe’s face slightly crumbled at the words.

“That he made me marry her and she ended up pregnant from that one night? I couldn’t even look at the kid when he was born, couldn’t hold him ‘cause all it did was make me fucking remember!” Mickey shouted. “I was shitty and absent when the kid was born but now I love him. He’s mine and I’ll never be the kind of Father Terry was!”

He took a deep breath and finally sat back. Joe gave Mickey a moment to calm his racing heart before nodding.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” he spoke quietly. “Mickey, I won’t sugar coat anything. You’re a convicted criminal, you spent your youth in and out of juvenile hall. You’ve made a lot of bad choices in your life, your crime against Ms. Slott one of many. But that doesn’t define who you are because you’re also that kid who was broken and beaten by your Father. You were brutalized in a terrible way, had corrective rape forced onto you.”

“Don’t say that shit, man!” Mickey growled, jumping to his feet and pacing like a caged animal. “Not like I didn’t have sex with girls before my big public fucking declaration. Just lay off that shit.”

“Alright,” Joe agreed. “Mickey, what I’m saying is that I look at you and see a broken kid with a lot of love in his heart. A kid who tried to take care of his sick boyfriend when he was diagnosed. You’re not a violent criminal, Mickey. You’ve had a rough life and made mistakes but you’re not a bad person.”

Opening the folder, he pulled out several written pages, holding them out.

“These are letters written on your behalf, character references. One is from your sister, Mandy. She never went into details but she said enough. She credits you for being there for her when you were kids, helping her with homework, taking punishments from Terry so he would leave her alone.”

Mickey looked away, wiping a hand across his eyes.

“This one is from Kevin Ball, owner of the Alibi, saying that he’s known you and Terry for a long time and he was amazed you turned out as well as you did growing up in that household. He also wrote something about perfume soaps and pubic hair which was very odd,” Joe frowned as Mickey rolled his eyes. “The third is from Lip Gallagher, Ian’s brother.”

Snapping his head up at the name, Mickey took a step forward. “What the fuck? The guy hates me.”

“I don’t think he does. He’s the one who wrote about Ian’s bipolar, how you did your best trying to take care of his brother. He wrote that a part of him still hates you on principle but that he’s seen the love you’ve shown his brother and the love his brother has for you. He didn’t always support it but he understands and supports it now.”

Mickey’s eyes stayed wide as he sank back in the chair.

“You have people in your corner, Mickey,” Joe continued.

Chuckling in disbelief, Mickey finally let his shoulders drop, his defenses lowering.

“This turned into a fucking therapy session,” he scoffed. “So basically, you don’t think I’m a total fuckup.”

“Something like that,” Joe smiled. “Mickey, I can get you a job at a gas station or on the janitorial staff of an office building. I could get you a job as a packer at a grocery store or a spot at the meat packing plant. But I think we can do better than that. I think you want more than that. To start, I would encourage you to complete your GED.”

“Why? What the hell would that do for me?” he laughed, holding his knuckles up. “Not gonna get an office job anywhere with my resume, my name and whatever fucking reputation I got.”

“I don’t want you to get your GED so you can get an office job. That wouldn’t suit you anyway,” Joe replied. “I want you to get it because you’re smart and you deserve to have it.”

“I’m smart? I dropped out of school, man.”

“Your test grades were in the upper percentile when you were younger. That ended when your Mother died.”

Mickey looked away but didn’t refute.

“Do you want to go back to jail?”

“No,” Mickey shook his head.

“Do you want to have a future, build a decent life for you and your son, for you and Ian?”

“Yeah, man,” Mickey nodded, his voice soft.

“Then I’ll make you a deal. You get your GED and I’ll get you a decent job.”

“Not the meat packing plant?” Mickey snorted.

“No, not the meat packing plant,” Joe smiled as he rose to his feet. “Will you shake on that?”

Mickey took a moment to stare between the man and his extended hand before reaching up and shaking.

“Good. Now come with me.”

Walking out of the office, he led Mickey down the hall, pausing to give his receptionist a quick chat before heading to the parking outside, turning back when he reached his truck.

“Get in your car and follow me.”

Without waiting for a response, he climbed behind his wheel and pulled away, Mickey rushing to follow. They drove behind one another for several minutes until Joe pulled into a plaza on the right. Mickey sat in his car for several seconds, staring at the building up ahead until Joe’s knock on his window made him startle and climb out.

“Why are we here, man? A gym? You trying to tell me I need to lose weight or some shit?”

“No,” Joe chuckled as they made their way towards the doors. “It’s a boxing gym.”

He opened the door and slipped inside, Mickey following him close behind. The moment they stepped into the main area, Mickey stopped to take a look around himself. A boxing ring was set up in the center of the gym with punching bags scattered all around and a large mural of Muhammad Ali painted on the back wall. The hallway to the left led to the changing rooms with framed championship posters decorating on all sides. A boxer was floating around the ring, taking practice shots at one of the coaches while others used the punching bags.

“Hey, Mickey, come over here,” Joe gave a wave, snapping him out of his daze.

Moving to the edge of the ring, he stopped when Joe motioned the man beside him.

“This is Clyde, he owns the gym here and he’s a very good friend of mine.”

“How’s it going, kid?” Clyde said, throwing out his hand with a crooked smile.

Mickey quickly shook it and leaned back, waving his hand around the open space. “Pretty cool gym.”

“Good to know,” Clyde chuckled. “This here has been with me for over fifteen years. Trained a lot of good men behind these walls, some tough ladies too. You ever heard of Danny Garcia?”

“Yeah, he's made a name for himself in the Lightweight championships. He trained here?”

“Yes, he did. Had a couple fights here in Chicago, stayed for a couple months, Trained here in this gym,” Clyde nodded. “You heard about the Battle for Greatness?”

“Who the fuck hasn’t, man?” Mickey chuckled. “Manny Pacquiao and Floyd Mayweather Jr. Watched that match my first stint in prison. Guards were douchebags but they let us watch the game. About the only good memory I have from that fucking year.”

Clyde chuckled at his candor before leaning against the edge of the ring. “Popularity of heavyweight professional boxing’s been on the decline the past several years, what with MMA and all those other sports on the rise. But welterweight and lightweight, those have been rising in popularity. All the boxers you see here these days, the ones behind us now, are mostly in those weight classes.”

“Now for why we’re here,” Joe cut in. “Mickey was released from prison yesterday. I want to find him a job but a decent one. You have anything here?”

“Our last assistant quit a few days ago. Haven’t had the chance to find a replacement,” Clyde shrugged, looking back at Mickey. “You interested, kid?”

“What’s the assistant do?”

“Mostly clean up around the gym, the change rooms. Spray down the punching bags and gloves. Stuff like that.”

Mickey looked away from them and glanced around the gym, lifting his FUCK knuckles to rub at his lower lip. Clyde quickly noticed the tattoos and exchanged a look with Joe who shook his head.

“What do you think, Mickey? Does it sound better than the meat packing plant?”

“Yeah, sounds alright,” Mickey shrugged, acting casual but the glint in his eyes spoke a different tune.

“We can try you out for a week, see how you do,” Clyde nodded. “Gym opens at nine every morning, you’d work six days a week until five. Don’t give me shit about working the extra hours. We’re understaffed and I’ll be needing the help. Someone else comes in for the evening and Sundays we’re closed.”

“Yeah, man, that’s good,” Mickey agreed.

“Now Joe’s a good friend of mine and I normally don’t take any strays he sends my way but you got something in your eyes, kid. Don’t steal from the place, don’t cause or bring any trouble, show up for work and we’ll be just fine.”

Mickey reached out and shook Clyde’s hand again, his eyes drawing back to the ring as the boxer threw a punch.

“Alright, why don’t you start tomorrow. For now, Jack over there can give you a tour, show you where all the stuff is.”

He waved Mickey towards an older man standing near the hallway leading to the changerooms. With a final glance at the boxing ring, Mickey ducked his head and walked off.

“What’s brewing in that mind of yours, Joe? I know you didn’t just bring this kid here to clean this place up.”

“Yes and no,” Joe chuckled. “I think the place and you will be a good match for him and maybe you can try him out.”

“For boxing?” Clyde laughed.

“Yeah, if you read his file, he’s thrown a lot of punches in his time.”

“How old is he?”

“Just turned twenty-five,” Joe said.

“In and out of prison?” Clyde asked, his arms crossing at his chest.

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Joe nodded. “Terry Milkovich is his Dad.”

“Shit! That mean old bastard had kids? He still kicking around?”

“Yeah, as far as I know. He had a bunch of kids. Mickey’s the youngest son,” Joe said before stepping closer. “He’s gay, Clyde. I feel shitty for saying it, not knowing if he wants you to know or not, but that shit that happened with Terry a few years back, that was because of Mickey. Almost killed the kid when he found out.”

“Jesus,” Clyde shook his head. “In and out of prison and he’s only twenty-five. He a good kid?”

“I only know what others have told me and what my gut is saying. The character references, family and friends, could be lies. We all know that. But my gut’s telling me this kid ain’t bad.”

“Alright, I’ll test him out. Not mentioning nothing about trying him out yet. Gonna see how he does at the job.”

“Works for me,” Joe smiled.

“What’s it with you and charity cases, man?” Clyde suddenly asked. “You usually don’t get involved like this but every now and then, you get invested in one.”

“I have two boys of my own, about Mickey’s age. I remember my younger brothers when we were growing up. Half the families here are broken, Clyde. People with stories like yours and mine, people with stories like Mickey’s. The good ones, the ones I see something inside them, I want to help them stay out of prison, have a decent life.”

“Okay,” Clyde finally agreed as Mickey walked back towards them, smirk filling his face.

“Changerooms aren’t as shitty as I thought.”

“Glad they meet your high standards,” Clyde snorted. “Get out of here and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

With a final glance at the ring, Mickey lowered his gaze and followed Joe out of the gym.

“So, what do you think?” Joe asked once they reached their cars. “Sounds good to you?”

“Yeah, man, better than I thought I’d get,” he nodded, his voice growing quiet. “I don’t get why you’re being nice and shit but thanks.”

Joe smiled before climbing behind his wheel. “Two weeks from now, I better see you in my office same place, same time. Clyde will be giving me reports on how you do so make sure you don’t fuck it up. He’s a good man but he’ll have no problems throwing you out on your ass and then it’s the meat packing plant.”

“Alright, I get it!” Mickey rolled his eyes.

“Good. See you in two weeks.”

Mickey stepped back and watched as Joe drove away before climbing into his own car. Leaning forward on the steering wheel, he bit his lip to hold back his excitement as he stared at the gym across the lot. The smile stayed on his face all the way until he reached the Alibi.

“Hey Mickey!” Kevin greeted, his goofy smile in place.

Ian’s gaze snapped up from the name, a smile covering his face when Mickey eased through the other patrons to stop at the counter.

“Hey, how did the meeting go? Did it run over? I thought you’d be here earlier?” Ian asked, wiping the counter with a rag.

Mickey took a moment to watch him, taking in his white button down and dark blue jeans.

“You got a break coming up?” he asked instead.

“Is this gonna be a thing?” Kevin cut in. “You show up here and Ian disappears on break for an hour?”

“No, douchebag. I just gotta talk to him for a minute,” Mickey replied.

“Oh honey, let the boys go. Not like we got a lot of traffic going on right now,” V said as she walked past them with a tray of glasses.

“Alright, take a break,” Kev said and Ian’s face instantly lit up. “Is it a talk that needs privacy?”

“Privacy as in not having your seven foot ass staring at us, then yeah,” Mickey rolled his eyes.

“Don’t get all defensive. You can use the office in the back,” Kevin pointed. “But don’t even think of getting lucky on my couch. That’s where me and V have our fun.”

“Shit I didn’t need to know,” Mickey muttered.

Ian chuckled and made his way towards the hall but Mickey hesitated for a moment, turning back to Kevin.

“By the way, thanks.”

“For what, man?” Kevin frowned.

“The letter for my parole officer.”

“Oh, that! Not a problem, man. I spoke from my heart! You can thank Mandy for that. She’s the one who asked me to write.”

Surprised by his words, he nodded and made his way towards Ian who was watching him with a curious smile.

“Everything good?” Ian asked as they walked down the hall towards the office.

The moment the door had closed behind them, Mickey pinned Ian to the wall, dragging his face down into a heated kiss. Ian moaned at the sudden onslaught, turning so he could switch their spots, his arms wrapping around Mickey's body.

“I could get used to that greeting,” he smirked, leaving three kisses on Mickey’s neck before pulling back. “You’re in a good mood.”

“Parole officer wasn’t a total jackass,” Mickey snorted. “Got me a job at a boxing ring.”

“Mick, are you serious?” Ian asked, his brows raised in excitement.

“Yeah, it’s just cleaning and shit but I like the place. He took me there, met the owner. Place is pretty good, has all these murals of Ali and other legends up on the walls.”

“You sound excited. That’s awesome, Mick,” Ian said, his smile growing soft. “My Baby got a job.”

“What did I fuckin say about saying that shit in public?” Mickey growled but Ian simply laughed as he reached down for Mickey’s belt. “The fuck you doing?”

“What do you think? You’re all excited, got me excited too,” Ian smirked, pushing Mickey’s pants down past his knees.

“We can’t here, man! Fucking people outside! Kev or V can fucking come in.”

Ian reached over and locked the door before moving back into Mickey’s space, his brow raised in challenge. When Mickey bit his lip nervously, Ian lets his lips travel across his neck, the lightness of his touch sending Mickey’s head lolling back against the wall.

“I really wanna touch you right now,” Ian whispered.

“Like you have to fucking ask,” Mickey groaned. “Get on me.”

Smiling brightly, Ian leaned down and let their lips fit together.


	6. SIX

*****

Snapping his eyes awake, Ian shook his head in confusion until his gaze focused on the warm body pressed against his chest. Releasing a shaky breath, he tightened his hold around Mickey’s body, leaning his face down to inhale the scent at his neck.

“Morning,” Mickey mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his tired eyes.

Ian wanted to answer, to pretend he didn’t feel the way he did but his dream had been too vivid. His heart was still pounding, his body tense as he pulled Mickey closer until he was pushed beneath him.

“What’s up with you?” Mickey frowned, staring up in worry.

Instead of answering with words, Ian crashed their lips together. Mickey was caught by the sudden kiss but quickly let his arms wrap around Ian’s shoulders, bringing their bodies closer. Forcing Ian’s face back to catch his breath, Mickey gasped when he felt a bite low on his neck.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what’s going on with you?” he panted, feeling Ian reach down to push their boxers down their legs.

The hands were trembling when they reached for Mickey’s thighs. Using his strength, Mickey twisted until Ian was back underneath, moving to straddle his legs and pinning his arms to the mattress.

“Ian, what the fuck? You’re shaking.”

“I’m okay,” he whispered.

“You’re not fucking okay!”

“Mick, please,” Ian’s voice broke as his eyes squeezed shut. “Please, just let me hold you.”

Sitting back, Mickey pulled his boyfriend up until they were seated on the mattress. He felt Ian’s arms wrap around him, his grip almost too tight but Mickey stayed quiet as he ran his fingers through Ian’s hair. They stayed that way for several minutes, locked together, neither speaking as Ian’s breathing began to calm. When he felt his boyfriend’s heartbeat grow steady between them, Mickey finally leaned back to catch his gaze.

“You better now?”

Ian met his eyes briefly before looking down. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m fine.”

Not giving him a chance to question, Ian quickly untangled himself and climbed out of bed.

“I’m gonna take a shower. It’s only your fourth day at the gym. You shouldn’t be late.”

Shutting the bathroom door behind him, he cut off Mickey’s voice before he could talk. When the sound of the shower switched on, Mickey rubbed the exhaustion from his face and rose to his feet, dragging the blanket over the mattress as his way of tidying the bed. Ian was quick with his shower, walking out after a few minutes fully dressed. He avoided Mickey’s eyes as he mumbled about breakfast and disappeared to the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, Mickey had showered and changed as he made his way over, taking the mug of coffee Ian had left him. He watched his boyfriend for a long while as they sipped their coffees, keeping his thoughts hidden. When they pulled up behind the Alibi a while later, Mickey shut the engine off and finally faced him.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ian smiled.

Mickey bit his lip, hesitating on his next words. “Meds okay?”

Ian’s smile disappeared as quickly as it came, his brows drawing together. “They’re fine.”

“Do you want to maybe see your doctor or something?”

“I’m fine, Mickey. Fuck!” he snapped, climbing out of the car and slamming the door behind him.

“Well excuse fucking me for being worried!” Mickey spat as he got out after him. “What the fuck was that this morning?”

“Just let it go. I’m fine!”

Turning around, he started making his way towards the Alibi’s back doors when a hand spun him around.

“I fucking get that you don’t want me asking questions or coming to doctor appointments like last time. Fucking fine,” Mickey growled. “But don’t expect me to stop worrying about your ginger ass ‘cause that’ll never happen!”

Not waiting for a response, he pushed past Ian and climbed back into the car, driving off without another glance. Letting his head fall back against the wall, Ian closed his eyes and sighed.  


********

Shutting the folder in his hands, Clyde pushed back from his desk and stood to stretch his tired limbs. Walking out of his office, he glanced around the gym, taking in the training session in the ring and the scattered boxers at the punching bags. His eyes finally landed on Mickey as he mopped an area near the changerooms, his head bent low, his brows drawn together in concentration.

“Hey kid!”

Mickey looked up from his spot and left the mop against the wall before walking over.

“You look distracted today. Everything alright?” Clyde asked, grabbing one of the punching bags from behind.

“Just a pain in my ass I argued with,” Mickey muttered.

“You know what I like to do when I’m pissed? Punch one of these bags,” Clyde began, taking a step back but holding on tightly. “Good way to release your anger. Better than punching someone’s actual face.”

Mickey snorted but made no other movement.

“Well?” Clyde asked expectantly.

“You want me to fucking punch this bag?” Mickey frowned.

“Yeah, kid, throw a hit. Let’s see what you got.”

The front doors opened and Joe walked through, moving across the floor towards them.

“You here to fucking check up on me?” Mickey growled. “Haven’t been late, man.”

“Oh I know,” Joe smiled. “I talk to Clyde every day.”

Rolling his eyes, Mickey turned back towards Clyde who motioned the bag. Taking a deep breath, Mickey took a step forward and threw a punch, pushing Clyde and the bag backwards a step.

“How much effort did you put in that?” 

“Effort? I don’t fucking know!” Mickey sighed. “You asked me to punch and I did.”

“Well, now I want you to do it again. This time, really mean it."

Mickey didn’t hesitate as he pulled his arm back and threw a second punch, sending Clyde back even further. Joe crossed his arms at his chest, facing his friend with a small smile. Clyde watched Mickey for a long moment before making a silent decision.

“Its lunchtime, kid. You’ve only been taking a few minutes the past week. You get an hour. Go enjoy it.”

Mickey glanced between them before turning on his heels and walking out of the gym.

“Shit,” Clyde said once he was gone. “That’s one hell of a punch.”

“What did I tell you?” Joe chuckled.

“He’s an ex-convict,” Clyde tried to argue. “Joe, I don’t know.”

“You’re afraid of investing time and effort in him?” Joe guessed and Clyde nodded, rubbing his shoulder from the force of Mickey’s hit. “I can’t give you any guarantees and I won’t tell you what to do. This is your territory, man. But maybe give him a chance? If he fucks up, no second chances.”

Clyde hesitated before finally nodding. “Come on back to the office. I got a bottle of bourbon with your name on it.”

********

“Hey kid,” Kevin smiled, standing next to Ian who looked up from the same spot he’d been wiping the past several minutes. “You planning on working at all today?”

Realizing what he meant, Ian dropped the rag and sighed. “Sorry, Kev.”

“No worries, we all have shitty days,” Kevin slapped his shoulder. “Could use some help with inventory.”

“Do you mind if I take my lunch first? I won’t be long.”

Rolling his eyes, Kevin waved him away. Slipping from behind the counter, he grabbed his jacket and rushed out the back doors before freezing. Sitting on the trunk of their car, Mickey was watching him quietly as the cigarette dangled between his lips. Smiling at the image, Ian walked forward and stepped between his legs, dragging the cigarette away to pull Mickey into a kiss. With the back parking lot clear from prying eyes, Mickey tilted his head to the side to give Ian better access, moaning softly when their tongues slid together.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he sighed when they leaned back.

“I missed you too,” Ian repeated, letting his hands rest on Mickey’s neck. “I’m sorry about this morning.”

“You don’t need to tell me what it was if you don’t want to,” Mickey shrugged.

“I had a bad dream,” Ian suddenly blurted.

“Dream about what?”

“About you,” Ian started, taking a deep breath. “About fucking Terry.”

Mickey stayed quiet, giving him the space he needed to find his words.

“He fucking hurt you, Mick.”

“He’s fucking hurt me all the time back in the day. Why should that shit matter?”

“He killed you!” Ian snapped, quickly looking away.

“Hey, Ian, look at me,” Mickey said, pulling his boyfriend’s face towards him. “That piece of shit is out of our lives. I haven’t even seen him in fucking years, since before I went to prison the first fucking time.”

“It felt so real,” Ian spoke, his voice breaking.

“You and me, this right now is real. Not some fucked up dream you had.”

Desperate to believe his words, Ian fell forward and buried himself against Mickey, letting his face press against the neck he felt at home in. Knowing they were alone, Mickey let his own arms wrap around him, holding him close.

“I’m sorry,” Ian said again when he moved away. “Just for the fucking record, I want you asking about my appointments and the meds. I want you to ask, Mick. I know I sucked at that before but it’s different now. _I’m_ different.”

Mickey gave a small smile, pulling Ian into a quick kiss before helping him sit on the trunk beside him. Ian stared at Mickey’s free hand, the other still holding the cigarette. Rolling his eyes fondly, Mickey held his hand out and Ian grinned, pulling it onto his lap between his own.

“How was work? Did I totally fuck up your day?” he asked after they’d moved the smoke between them.

“Nah, man, it was fine. Weird shit happened though. Clyde asked me to hit one of the punching bags, wanted to see how hard I hit. Face got all fucking squinty when I did.”

Ian chuckled as he finished the smoke and tossed it away. “Why do you think he asked?”

“Fuck if I know, man,” Mickey shrugged before his eyes fell on the bar. “Hey, you like working here?”

“It’s better than any of the other options I had. Plus, Kevin’s pretty easy to work for.”

“He a better bartender than he was a pimp?” Mickey snorted.

“Something like that,” Ian chuckled. “Why?”

“I guess I thought you could do something different.”

“Different how?” Ian frowned.

“You liked being an EMT, right? Helping people?” Mickey asked and Ian nodded. “Figured maybe you could be a Counselor or whatever. You know, to troubled kids or something.”

Ian’s frown deepened as his mind worked over the words. “A Counselor?”

“Yeah, you give a shit. One of the best things about you,” Mickey shrugged, looking away when a blush filled his cheeks.

Ian’s brows straightened, a smile filling his face as he threw an arm around Mickey’s shoulders. “You like that about me?”

“Well, maybe after your dick,” Mickey corrected, making him laugh. “But yeah, man. You saw shit in me when no one else did.”

He took a breath and turned to face him, needing the eye contact to get the words out.

“Without you, I’d have a lot less grey hairs,” he started as Ian’s smile softened. “But you fucking changed my life too when we were a couple of stupid kids. Maybe you could do that for someone else. Without going all Gay Jesus again.”

Ian let his laugh escape, pulling Mickey into a quick kiss. “I’ll never live that down, will I?”

He ran his hands down Mickey’s neck, playing with the zipper of his jacket.

“I really fucking love you,” he whispered. “For the record, you changed my life too. “

They gave each other shy smiles before Ian sat straight.

“I don’t even know if it’s possible, being around at risk youth or whatever, what with me being an ex-convict and my wonderful fucking resume,” Ian sighed. “But I really like the idea. I’m seeing my parole officer tomorrow. I’ll pitch it, see what she says.”

Leaning in, he gave Mickey another kiss before jumping off the trunk.

“Get over here for a minute,” he smirked, pulling Mickey in by his hips.

“Fuck off, man,” Mickey laughed, pushing away the grabby hands. “Nothing’s gonna fucking happen here. Lucky no one’s walked out yet.”

“Just a kiss,” Ian pouted. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“Yeah ‘cause you’re such a fucking boy scout,” Mickey rolled his eyes. “Get over here.”

Ian gave a quick grin before their mouths pressed together. Sliding his hands down, he trailed his fingers below Mickey’s shirt, tucking them just under the waist band. The kiss was slow and perfect, their bodies pressed together without a breath of space between them.

“I gotta go, man,” Mickey panted, moaning softly when he felt Ian’s lips move up his neck.

Leaving a final kiss just behind his ear, Ian pulled away with a smile.

“I get off earlier today. You mind if I come by the gym, see where my man works?”

“What the fuck you just say?” Mickey glared.

Ian simply smirked at his reaction. “Pimp Daddy better?”

“You still on that nickname shit?” he snapped, jumping off the hood and poking Ian in his chest. “Stop that shit.”

“Why, because you’ll withdraw sex?” Ian repeated the previous threat. “I’d last longer than you, Mick.”

“Yeah, wise guy? You think so?” Mickey smirked, moving until their bodies were touching in a single long line, grabbing Ian’s hips and rolling his own.

“Fuck,” Ian groaned, reaching to pull Mickey even closer but the other man laughed as he stepped back.

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.”

“You suck,” Ian muttered, adjusting himself in his jeans.

“Would’ve sucked _you_ if you didn’t do that nickname shit again,” Mickey grinned, patting Ian’s crotch before climbing in the car.

“Seriously? You’re just gonna leave me like this?” Ian whined.

“Alibi’s got a bathroom, don’t it?” Mickey smirked and drove away.

“Fucking asshole,” Ian said with a smile, giving himself a minute before walking back inside.

“Don’t wanna know what happened back there but glad you’re smiling again,” Kevin greeted as Ian stepped back behind the bar. “Just a quick little thing. We got cameras installed back there a few months ago when those idiots were robbing all the joints down this block.”

Ian’s eyes widened just a fraction before he reached for the rag. “Don’t tell Mick.”

  
********

Washing his hands at one of the sinks, Mickey took the rest of the cleaning supplies and dropped them in the storage closet. Making his way back towards the front, he looked up just as Joe and Clyde walked out of the back office.

“You stalking me?”

Joe chuckled as he leaned against the equipment stand. “You think about what we discussed last time?”

When Mickey frowned, Joe gave an unimpressed glare.

“GED ring a bell?”

“Fucking yes, man,” Mickey rolled his eyes. “I agreed to do it, didn’t I?”

Joe held his hands up in defense just as the front doors burst open. Smiling when he saw his boyfriend, Ian made his way across the floor and stopped beside Mickey, keeping his hands to himself and his expression neutral.

“Hey,” Mickey gave a small smile. “This is Clyde, the owner and Joe, my PITA parole officer.”

“PITA?” Joe repeated.

“Pain in the ass,” Ian chuckled.

“Fucking comedian,” Joe grumbled.

“This is Ian,” Mickey said and licked his lips. “My boyfriend.”

Ian’s smile widened as he gave Mickey his biggest heart eyes.

“Well, Ian, your boyfriend thinks he’s a fucking comedian,” Joe repeated.

“Packs a mean punch though,” Clyde added.

“He said you tested him out earlier,” Ian grinned. “He does pack a mean punch. My jaw speaks from experience.”

“Not like you hit like a fucking princess,” Mickey grumbled. “ROTC training right here.”

Ian laughed before nodding. “Maybe but you fight differently, Mick. It’s like you feel every punch you throw.”

Before Mickey could muster a reply, the boxer who kept monopoly on the ring walked past and muttered under his breath.

“What you just fucking say?” Mickey snapped.

“Called you a fucking faggot,” the boxer smirked.

“Jimmy, what the fuck is with you?” Clyde walked forward. “I don’t deal with that shit in my gym.”

“Had to say something, Clyde. Felt like the guy’s been watching me all fucking week,” he spat.

“ _Watching_ you?” Mickey scoffed. “I’ve been watching how you fight and fucking newsflash, asshole, you ain’t the shit you think you are!”

Glaring at the words, Jimmy strode forward. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

“Mick, just leave him,” Ian grabbed his arm. “You can’t get into fights.”

“Yeah, _Mick_ , listen to your little girlfriend and run away, you faggot,” Jimmy mocked.

The group stood in silence until Ian looked at Mickey who turned his glare to Clyde and Joe. A silent exchange passed between them before Joe gave a small nod. 

“Keep the fight clean and get your asses in the ring,” Clyde added.

Beaming at the older man, Mickey’s smile made Ian laugh as he reached over to pull his jacket off.

“Kick his ass,” he said sweetly.

“With fucking pleasure.”

Jimmy started bouncing around the ring, tapping his gloved fists together, his helmet secure in place. Whipping off his overshirt and handing it to Ian, Mickey slid under the ropes and jumped to his feet.

“Kid, wait a minute. Get gloves and a helmet,” Clyde called.

“Like I fucking need that shit,” Mickey scoffed, moving forward to circle with Jimmy. “I’ll bare knuckle this asshole to the ground.”

“Think you’re a tough guy because of those tattoos?” Jimmy taunted. “You’re nothing but white trailer trash. Not afraid of you!”

“Where the fuck is all this rage coming from? Did I fuck you over before going inside?” Mickey smiled.

“Inside where?” Jimmy spat, rolling his shoulders.

“Prison, man! Did I beat the shit out of you before going in?”

Jimmy covered his surprise by lifting his gloves. He stepped forward and threw a cross that Mickey ducked before trying a left hook that missed.

“Is that all you got?” Mickey chuckled.

Ian shook his head from the ropes but smiled as he watched his boyfriend tease the taller man. Jimmy threw another jab that Mickey easily dodged before rushing forward, throwing punches with both hands. One caught Mickey on his cheek, sending him backwards a step. Pushing him against the ropes, Jimmy threw a sucker punch at Mickey’s ribs, the hit making him wince.

“Mick, come on!” Ian shouted.

“Yeah, what were you saying, tough guy?” Jimmy challenged, gaining confidence as another hit struck Mickey’s chest.

Before he could land another blow, Mickey threw a sudden jab that pushed Jimmy backwards. Using the advantage, he threw a second punch, the strength catching Jimmy by surprise. As the other man wobbled on his feet, Mickey threw a final cross that sent Jimmy to the floor. He rolled onto his back and stared up in confusion as Mickey stood over him with a grin.

“You ever watch Rocky, man? Take the punches and then fucking beat the guy,” he said before kneeling down and grabbing Jimmy’s helmet. “You ever say shit like that to me or him again, I’ll fucking make you bleed.”

Dropping his head with a thud, he slid under the ropes as Ian bit his lip to hold his smile. Clyde gave him a thoughtful look before lifting his chin towards the changerooms.

“Go clean up and then get back here.”

Mickey tossed a final glare at Jimmy as he made his way down the hallway, Ian hot on his trail.

“What do you think?” Joe asked, leaning against the ropes, both ignoring the struggling boxer behind them.

“His jab and hook are pretty good. I’ll admit that much,” Clyde relented, rolling his eyes at Joe’s wide smile.

“Fucking piece of shit,” Mickey grumbled as he walked towards the sink to rinse the blood from his mouth. “If we weren’t here with my fucking parole officer watching, I would have kicked his ass a lot harder.”

“Mickey,” Ian started, tossing the clothes he was holding on the bench as he moved up behind him. “That was hot.”

He slipped his arms around Mickey’s waist, letting his hands travel as he pressed a kiss against the sweaty skin.

“The fuck, Ian! Get off me, man! Someone can walk in!”

“No one’s coming in here,” Ian whispered, his hand moving down to rub him over his jeans.

“Fuck,” Mickey whined, letting himself enjoy it for a moment before he pushed Ian backwards towards one of the shower stalls.

Slipping in and pulling a laughing Ian behind him, Mickey pulled the curtain shut before crashing their lips together. When they walked back out after ten minutes, Ian was smiling broadly as Mickey limped slowly behind him.

“Come here,” Clyde waved them over. “How you feeling?”

“Fine. Where’s the asshole?”

“Gone, out of my gym. I don’t like drama and I don’t like getting involved but I also don’t stand homophobic shit so he’s gone,” Clyde shrugged. “Let me ask you something, Mickey. Do you fight everyone that treats you that way?”

“Listen, man, I dealt with more than enough shit from my fucking Father over the years. Not taking it no more.”

“Yes, Terry Milkovich. Joe mentioned that before,” Clyde sighed. “Have you ever thought of boxing?”

He met Ian’s surprised expression with a laugh. “I learned how to punch ‘cause it’s the fucking South Side, man. You do what you do to survive out there.”

“That may be true but your punch was better than every other idiot that learns how to fight to survive in those streets,” Clyde amended.

“What are you getting at?” Mickey asked after a beat of silence.

“What do you think about doing some training?”

“You mean going pro?” Mickey snorted. “Man, I just got out of the joint last week.”

“You planning on going back?” Joe cut in.

“Fucking no, man.”

“Then what do you say?” Clyde asked. “You’d still have to keep your job for parole reasons so training would be for a couple hours after your shifts end.”

He looked over at Ian who was grinning. Sensing the hesitation, Clyde took a step forward.

“Not promising nothing or saying you’ll even get anywhere. Your jab and hook were pretty damn good but your feet are a bit slow and you need to work on your defenses. You’re good, better than good but you got a lot of work to do too. Ain’t nobody gonna blow sunshine up your ass. You want this, you have to work for it. But I see something in you. Call it a gut instinct.”

Swallowing hard, Mickey released a breath. “Can I think about it? I got a kid. Need to talk it through.”

“Take your time and let me know where you land,” Clyde nodded. “Get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Giving the older men a quick nod, Mickey followed Ian out of the gym, staying silent until they reached the car. With Ian behind the wheel, Mickey stared out of the windshield for several minutes before glancing over.

“Fucking crazy, right?”

“I dunno, Mick. Sounds like a pretty damn good opportunity,” Ian smiled. “What does your gut say? Is it something you’re interested in?”

“Never thought my punches could turn into a full time gig,” Mickey snorted, guiding Ian down the road towards the park. “Maybe I can try it out for a few days? See how the training is?”

“I think you’d be fucking great,” Ian grinned. “My reaction in the shower kind of sealed it.”

Mickey chuckled as Ian pulled the car to a spot on the side of the road. Climbing out, they made their way down the path, glimpsing Lana, Yev and Mandy seated at a bench up ahead.

“Dad!” Yev shouted, barreling over on his little legs and jumping up to hug Mickey around his waist. “Your cheek is hurt!”

“Nah, little man, I’m good,” Mickey grinned. “You on the playground?”

“Yeah, come watch me on the slide!” Yev smiled as he ran over to Ian for a quick hug before bouncing towards the sand.

“You sure you’re okay?” Mandy asked, tilting his chin.

Batting her hands away, he grabbed her arm and led her towards Yev. Ian smiled as he took the empty spot beside Lana, both of them watching Yev as he came down the slide.

“I saw my parole officer a few days ago,” Mickey started, keeping his eyes fixed on his kid.

“Yeah, Ian mentioned he got you a job at a boxing gym. Sounds pretty cool.”

“The guy who owns the place is thinking of maybe training me.”

“Train you as a boxer?” Mandy asked before a grin broke out on her face. “Fucking hell, Mick! That’s awesome!”

“Maybe, I dunno,” he shrugged, keeping his own excitement muted as he turned towards her. “Guess I got you to thank for that, don’t I?”

She frowned before Yev captured their attention, watching as he climbed onto the swing. They moved behind him as Mickey started pushing.

“The letters for my parole officer,” he reminded and she chuckled.

“Guy approached me, asked me for a character reference. Told him you were an asshole but I guess my smile gave me away.”

Mickey pushed Yev a few more times before glancing back at his sister. “You asked Lip and Kev to write them too.”

She shrugged as she moved to stand beside him. “You were there for me when we were kids. Guess it was my turn to have your back.”

They shared a small smile when a sudden scoff made them look to the side. Two mothers were pushing their strollers, dressed in perky clothes, watching them with disdain, their eyes focused on Mickey’s knuckles.

“Why don’t you go home and pop another valium so you can pretend your life doesn’t suck while your husbands fuck tighter asses tonight!”

The scandalized women huffed as they scurried away, Mandy flipping both off as they went.

“That was fun,” she grinned turning back to him as he rolled his eyes.

“I’m gonna be rich,” Yev smiled from his seat, the swing already slowed.

“Why’s that, kiddo?” she asked.

“You guys owe so much money to Mama’s swear jar.”

They grinned at one another as Mickey started pushing Yev again. Ian watched them with a tender smile until Lana got his attention.

“How are you? How is he? Sex is good?”

“You always know which questions to ask,” Ian chuckled. “We’re good, we’re fine.”

“I saw Kev before at bar. He said you were otdalennyy. What is word? Distant.”

“Why are you and Kev talking about me?” Ian frowned.

“I come by, ask for update. He stupid man. Tells me everything,” she shrugged.

Sighing, he turned his gaze back forward and watched as Mickey chased after Yev on the playground. Mandy stood back and laughed when Mickey slipped and fell face first in the sand.

“I’m fine now. Just had a weird dream,” he said, meeting her eyes again. “Terry came back.”

“He killed ex-husband?” she asked, her brow raised.

Ian took a breath and nodded. “It kind of fucked me up. Not like it can’t happen. He’s still alive, he’s still around.”

Svetlana stayed quiet for a while, watching the side of his profile as he smiled at Mickey from a distance.

“In Russia, if you dream of lover being killed by angry shit Father, it means you are thinking of brak,” she finally said, waiting until he faced her to translate. “Marriage.”

“What!” he laughed. “You just fucking made that up.”

“In Russia, they believe,” she deadpanned.

“Well then they’re all insane and so are you,” he said, his laugh falling away.

“Do you not think of marriage with him?” she asked, all humor leaving her voice.

He took a sharp breath and shrugged. “We’ve never talked about stuff like that.”

“But it mattered to you before, yes? When he and I wed?”

“Yeah, that hurt for a lot of reasons,” he spoke quietly.

“One reason was because you wanted to marry him yourself, yes?” she pressed him.

“Yeah, maybe,” he shrugged again. “Why are we even talking about this? Mick and I have never mentioned it. Too much shit was always going on. Us being a secret, his fucking Dad, your marriage, my bipolar, me fucking treating him like shit, being separated and then fucking prison. Never a good time to casually say ‘Hey Mick, wanna go to Vegas and elope?’”

She chuckled from his ramble, reaching over to take his hand. “You love him?”

“More than anything,” he nodded.

“You want anyone else like before? Cheat on him? Leave him for stupid, shitty reasons?” she asked, tightening her grip on his hand.

“No, Lana! Shit!” he snapped, yanking his hand away.

She watched him for a moment before sighing. “He may be piece of shit ex-husband but now is good Father to Yevgeny. I need make sure you understand.”

“I’m never gonna fucking leave him again. For however long he wants me, I’m there,” he said, keeping his voice steady until she broke out into a grin.

“Ask him for marriage. He say yes,” she said, rising from the bench.

“Thank you, Lana. Now that’s all I’m gonna fucking think about,” he sighed.

She reached down to kiss his cheek, smirking as she walked towards the playground. Ian watched as Mickey hugged Yev goodbye, waving at them and Mandy as they left.

“You okay?” Mickey asked, walking up once they were gone.

Leaning forward, Ian let his hands grip Mickey’s hips before pulling him in between his legs. Mickey quickly glanced around the park, making sure they were alone before leaning down and capturing Ian’s lips in a kiss.

“I love that you’re more comfortable now,” Ian smiled up at him, letting his hands fall down to his cheeks and giving a squeeze.

“Not that fucking comfortable!” he snapped, stepping back and pulling Ian up from the bench.

He let his arm fall over Mickey’s shoulders as they made their way towards the car.

“Sure you’re okay?” Mickey asked again as he pulled away down the road.

Ian smiled but stayed silent for several minutes, staring at Mickey’s face as he drove. He remembered their first time together all those years ago, walking into Mickey’s bedroom with a crowbar before they tussled and fell back onto his bed. The arousal had stunned them both and that first time had been quick and over within seconds, both too young and nervous to draw their pleasures out. The second time they had fucked, it had been completely different. It hadn’t been until Monica’s return, when he had ran to the Milkovich house in tears, desperate for Mickey’s comfort, that everything changed.

Those times between Mickey’s stints in juvie had been so precious to Ian, desperate to make the other boy admit his growing feelings. When that day with Terry had happened, the day Mickey refused to talk about, everything had changed again. Lana, the marriage, Yevgeny, Ian running away, then coming back in a drug fueled haze, working the bars in Boystown, dancing for strangers, desperate to forget the boy he’d fallen in love with.

When Mickey had found him and brought him home, something had shifted. Mickey had allowed Ian through some of his walls, his need to hold onto the other boy outweighing his fears. Thinking back, a part of Ian hated himself for pushing the ultimatum, forcing Mickey to out himself when he did. It was a night he would never forget, seeing Mickey stand up and be true to himself, stepping out from Terry’s shadow in such a crazy way. He _did_ hate himself for that night but when they had gone back to the Milkovich house, safe with Terry arrested, they hadn’t fucked each other raw like they always did. Something had finally shifted. They made love, facing one another, whispering sweet words of encouragement. The important three words stayed hidden but the gentle touches spoke them in different ways.

Ian’s disease had changed everything yet again. Unaware of how he was acting, Ian had cheated. Without the disease, Ian knew he never would have acted the way he did. Finally having Mickey after so many years of heartache had been everything but the bipolar changed him into someone that he hated. Breaking up with Mickey on the steps that day, not caring when Sammi chased him down and those words he’d spoken at the prison, so many things that Ian regretted. None worse than Mexico.

After coming out to a bar full of drunken scum, all because he loved Ian, everything Mickey had done since that night had proven his feelings. Ian’s response had been to disappoint him over and over again. Some he could excuse with the disease but he shouldered the rest of the blame. Being together two years in the prison was not enough. Finding them an apartment to live together was not enough. Lana’s words rumbled in his mind as he stared at Mickey’s face. Feeling peaceful and in love more in that moment than any other, Ian’s face grew into a smile.


	7. SEVEN

*****

Drumming his hands on the steering wheel, Ian stared at the small building through his windshield, watching a group of teenagers pass a basketball between them as they hung outside. Glancing at his watch, he took a breath and started walking towards the front doors. As he made his way down the hallway, the space opened up to a large rec room with offices to the side and a courtyard in the back. When he heard his name being called, he spun around to see his parole officer standing next to a woman in her early thirties.

“Ian, this is Molly. She’s in charge of this center,” Judy introduced them. “I’ll let you two get settled. Ian, don’t forget everything we discussed. I’ll call and check up on you in a bit, Moll.”

“Thanks again, Judy,” he gave her a small smile.

With a wave, his parole officer walked out of the building, narrowly missing a group of small children as they ran down the hallway towards the courtyard.

“This place is a bit of a zoo today,” Molly sighed. “Judy and I had a very long conversation about you already so I’ll just get right to it.”

He gave a quick nod and followed Molly as she led them outside, away from the noise and bustle of the rec room.

“Judy is close with one of my oldest friends so you being here now is a big favor I’m doing for someone else,” she started, waiting until Ian had nodded before continuing. “You will be on probation until further notice. While on probation, you will be supervised at all times.”

“I understand,” he nodded again.

“This center isn’t as well funded as the places they have on the North Side. Certified Therapists don’t tend to stick around for minimum wage,” she said, watching as two young girls walked past them to the small playground. “We have five Counselors other than myself. A lot of the kids that come here have no where else to go so we do our best to give them guidance or a shoulder to cry on, whatever it is they need when they come. Getting the police involved when abuse or neglect is suspected, I learned the hard way that it pushes the kids further away from us. Puts them into foster care or group homes and here in the South Side, that’s just trading one hell for another.”

Ian took a breath before speaking. “What made you open this place?”

Molly held his eyes for several seconds before leaning against the wall.

“My Father walked out on us when I was eleven, my younger sister was six,” she started, running a hand through her hair. “Our Mom did the best she could but she was killed in a car crash when I was sixteen. Tina, my sister, and me, we got sent to foster care but we were separated. We saw each other whenever we could but the homes we were in, the people weren’t good. By the time I was old enough to petition the Judge for custody, she slit her wrists in the bathroom of a gas station and bled out on the dirty floor.”

“I’m sorry,” Ian whispered, the genuine apology taking her by surprise.

“They’d been sexually abusing her for months but she was too scared to tell me, to tell anyone,” Molly added, wiping the tear from the corner of her eye. “I promised myself I’d do what I could to make it stop, make it change, anything. I became a social worker but taking battered kids and putting them into foster homes, after a while I couldn’t handle that so I saved up my money and finally managed to open this place. I don’t know if we’re making a difference or not but I like to think of it as a safe refuge for kids who are hurting like my sister was.”

She shook her head to rid her mind of the heavy thoughts as Ian watched her in silence.

“From what Judy mentioned, you’ve been through quite a bit in your life so far.”

“I guess you could say that,” he chuckled but the humor never met his eyes.

“Look, Ian, I’ll be honest with you. You’re an ex-convict and the things that led to your incarceration don’t shine the best light on you,” she exclaimed. “This is meant to be a safe place for kids to escape their lives, to get guidance from us in finding jobs, staying in school, just any kind of support we can give. Sometimes, all they need is for someone to listen.”

“I get that,” he nodded and she was able to sense the honesty in his words.

“Do you understand that this place is very dear to me? That I won’t allow anything or anyone to jeopardize what we’re trying to do here?”

“Molly, I understand,” he spoke firmly. “I may have just gotten out of prison but I’m from the South Side too, just like you. My family was no picnic, neither was my life. I wanted to help before but I went too far when I got arrested. I’m not certified or anything but I’m hoping all the shit I’ve seen and been through, maybe something can help one of these kids. If it works out, if you think I’m a good fit here, I’d like to look into courses down the line.”

Molly took a deep breath before her guarded expression slowly melted.

“It’ll take time to earn my trust, even longer to earn theirs,” she said and pointed at the kids behind her. “But Judy said you weren’t a bad kid. Just someone who had a bad hand dealt to them and made a lot of mistakes, but deep down, you’ve got a strong heart.”

“Remind me to give Judy a fruit basket,” Ian said and smiled when Molly finally laughed.

“We’ll start you on a couple shifts this week, see how you do,” she said once her laughter had died down. “We’ll get the payroll paperwork filled out before you leave today but for now, let me introduce you to the group.”

He followed her back inside towards Molly’s office where two men and three women were waiting.

“Everyone, this is Ian,” she introduced. “This is Steve, Rick, Nia, Beth and Jolene.”

Both of the men were in their mid thirties, Nia closer to Ian’s age while Beth and Jolene were older. He gave a small wave at the group, his eyes widening when Steve took a step forward and squeezed his arm.

“Good to have you here, Ian.”

He answered the smile with one of his own, looking through the other faces before facing Molly again.

“Alright, let me give you a quick tour and then we’ll see how you do out there with the kids.”

Missing the lingering smile on Steve’s face, he followed Molly back towards the main room when a young teenage boy slammed into his shoulder as he walked by.

“Look where the fuck you’re going!”

Ian whirled around towards the boy and froze, taking in his baggy jeans, dark hair and angry eyes. Instead of answering, he looked over at Molly who waved the boy away. Once they were back out in the courtyard, Ian let his smile slip out.

“He just reminds me of someone,” he said when Molly gave him a questioning look. “My boyfriend.”

She gave her first genuine smile and the anxiety Ian felt finally began to calm.

  
********

“Hey Mickey!”

Looking up from the weights he was polishing, Mickey dropped his rag and shuffled across the gym towards Clyde.

“This is my brother Antonne. He’s gonna be your trainer from now on.”

Staring up at the younger version of Clyde, Mickey smirked. “Good to meet you, man.”

“We’ll see about that,” he shrugged. “So Clyde tells me you’re gay.”

Quickly glancing back at the older man, Mickey hid his wounded look. “So what if I am?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, kid,” Antonne waved him off. “Bet it was real hard growing up being gay in the South Side. Did your Daddy beat you down?”

“Clyde, I get he’s your brother, but what the fuck, man?” Mickey grumbled. “I thought _you_ were gonna train me?”

“You think my old bones can keep up with you?” Clyde chuckled. “You want to train, Antonne’s your man.”

“Well, Antonne’s a fucking asshole for talking about shit he knows nothing about!”

“Shit, did I hit a nerve?” Antonne taunted. “You sure you’re not a fucking girl?”

“Fuck you!” Mickey snapped, angrily pushing the older man back.

“Come on, kid, is that all you have?” he laughed. “Clyde told me you were tough. Where’s that fucking toughness now?”

Acting on instinct, Mickey pulled his fist back and let it land on Antonne’s cheek, the force making the other man stumble a few steps back. Heaving from his anger, Mickey stepped closer, ready for another round when Antonne laughed and held his hand up.

“Kid, calm down! I just needed to see what I was working with,” he said, grabbing a towel and wiping the smear of blood from his lip. “That’s a hell of a right hook you got there.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Mickey growled.

“I was taunting you on purpose,” Antonne said, tossing the towel in the bin behind him. “Needed to get you mad to see what you had.”

“So you didn’t mean that shit?” Mickey asked, staring between the brothers.

“No,” his trainer smiled. “Sorry I hurt your feelings.”

“Fuck you,” Mickey snapped but the bite was gone from his voice.

“Alright, back to business. Clyde mentioned we need to work on your defenses and get your legs moving quicker but the punch, you’ve got down solid.”

He walked past Mickey towards the ring, stepping through the ropes and pulling himself up.

“You coming or not?”

When Mickey glanced back at Clyde, the older man was laughing. “He has his own way of doing things but I’m telling you, brother or not, he’s one of the best trainers I know.”

“I’m still working,” Mickey said, pointing to the weights.

“Don’t worry about it. This place is fucking spotless since you started working here,” he grinned. “Go show him what you got.”

“If I hit him again, you gonna fire me or some shit?”

“Nah, man!” Clyde chuckled. “Way I see it, my brother needs a good ass kicking every once in a while.”

Smiling at the permission, Mickey made his way towards the ring and climbed inside, wearing the gloves when Antonne tossed them at his chest.

“Alright, tough guy, let’s see what else you got.”

With a wide smirk, Mickey took a quick step forward and threw another punch.

  
********

As the young girl left his side with a smile, Ian glanced around the courtyard, looking through the faces of the kids around him when his eyes landed on the teenager from before. The boy was sitting on his own on a patch of grass near the back fences, his hood drawn over his head.

“Don’t bother with that one.”

Looking over his shoulder, Ian watched as Steve, the Counselor who kept tossing him smiles, made his way over.

“Ben’s a loose canon, has a lot of rage,” he sighed. “We’ve tried, all of us, but the kid’s a tough nut to crack. Glance at him wrong and you’ll be looking over your shoulder for a while.”

“I thought the whole point was to reach out to all the kids here,” Ian frowned. “The more difficult they are, the more help they probably need.”

“Seriously, don’t waste your time. Kid won’t be worth the effort,” Steve shook his head.

“The ones that everyone else say aren’t worth the effort are usually the ones that are worth the most,” Ian argued, Mickey’s face popping into his mind and making him smile.

“Well, anyway, a few of us were thinking of getting some food afterwards. I’d really like it if you came,” Steve switched the topic with a bright smile.

Stifling his laugh, Ian rose from his spot and shook his head. “I have to get home to my boyfriend after.”

“Oh,” the other man said as his face fell. “He can’t spare you for one night?”

“Maybe, but I’m the one who can’t spare him. Guess I just love him too damn much,” Ian shrugged, hoping his message had gotten across as he made his way across the courtyard.

Dragging a chair behind him, he took a seat just as the boy looked up.

“The fuck do you want?”

“Good to meet you too,” Ian chuckled. “I’m Ian. You’re Ben, right?”

“What the fuck’s it to you?” he muttered, staring down at his knuckles.

Ian took a moment to look over the boy’s profile, his gaze focusing on the bits of masking tape that were wrapped around every finger, letters penned onto each one.

“What does that say?” he asked, pointing to the hands.

Instead of answering, Ben lifted his hands and showed the backs of eight fingers.

“GO TO HELL,” Ian read and chuckled again.

“Something funny to you?” he growled.

“No, just thinking about my boyfriend,” Ian said and he saw a fleeting look in Ben’s eyes before his gaze narrowed. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“Dude, what the fuck is your problem?” he snapped, tossing his hood back in annoyance. “Does it look like I wanna be friends or talk to you?”

“No, but someone told me you were hard to talk to. What can I say? I like a fucking challenge,” Ian shrugged.

“Bet it was Steve,” Ben snorted, looking past Ian’s shoulder. “He’s got his eyes on you, man.”

“He can look all he wants. Not interested.”

“Right, because you got a boyfriend, right?” Ben laughed. “You still live around these parts?”

“Yeah, my boyfriend and I have an apartment a few blocks from here,” Ian nodded.

“You live with your boyfriend in the South Side and you’re actually alive?” Ben said with another laugh. “Guess you got one of the better families around these parts. The ones that don’t try to fucking kill you when they find out you’re gay. Lucky you.”

Ian watched him for a moment, trying his best to piece together what the boy was saying and everything he had left out.

“My family life hasn’t been easy. Fucked up like most other families around here. Absent parents, lots of siblings, always fending for ourselves,” Ian started. “My older siblings, Fiona and Lip, they weren’t perfect, made a lot of mistakes. All of us did but they cared a lot and tried to make the family work as best they could.”

“Yeah? You made mistakes too? You seem like a fucking boy scout.”

“Maybe once,” Ian smiled sadly. “But this boy scout just got out of prison from a two year sentence.”

Ben’s surprise made Ian want to laugh at himself.

“My boyfriend and I had a rough start to everything, I guess you could say,” Ian sighed. “I won’t get into details ‘cause I know he won’t want me airing our private life but things blew up and I made a lot of choices that made fucking sense at the time but obviously weren’t the best. I worked at a club in Boystown for a while, gave lap dances and let drunk old men stuff money in my shorts.”

Ben watched him quietly, his wide eyes absorbing everything Ian said.

“Got diagnosed with bipolar disease around the same time.”

“I know what that is,” Ben cut him off. “Had an Aunt who had that.”

“Then you know it’s not the easiest thing to have,” Ian smiled. “Took the meds at first but I got it into my head that I didn’t need them. Made a lot of stupid choices again, breaking things off with my boyfriend being on top of that list.”

His mind quickly flashed with memories of that day, Mickey’s beautiful words and his own heartless response.

“Long story short, I’m not perfect. I’ve made a shit load of mistakes but I’ve learned a lot from them too.”

“Back with the same boyfriend?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, he was on the run for a while,” Ian laughed when Ben’s eyes widened again. “When I went to prison, he made this deal with the Feds and got himself sent up here so he could be with me. We weren’t even together. Last we’d spoken, I made a choice that I regret more than he’ll ever know but he still made a sacrifice for me, to be with me. Some days, I still can’t wrap my head around that. But we’re together, we’re both out of prison, I’m on my meds and for the first time in a long fucking while, I actually see a future and it’s a good one but it doesn’t mean it was easy getting here.”

Ben swallowed hard as he stared back down at his hands. “Your family treat you good when you came out?”

“My older brother had a friend of his, a girl, give me a blowjob but other than that, they were decent about it.”

“Then consider yourself fucking lucky,” Ben snapped as he jumped to his feet. “All that other shit you went through, it sucked but unless your fucking family beat the shit out of you every fucking day for liking someone they didn’t want you to like, don’t fucking talk to me about having a hard time!”

He pushed past Ian and stormed inside the building. Before Ian could start to follow, Molly took a step forward from her spot against the fence.

“Were you there the whole time?”

“I told you I’d be supervising,” she shrugged. “You did pretty good with Ben.”

“You call that good? He just stormed out of here more pissed off than when I first walked up,” Ian frowned.

“True, but you made more progress with him than Steve, Nia or Beth have been able to do in the past three months,” she said, her smile growing sad. “His Father caught him and another boy together a couple years back. Reacted badly, been violent with Ben since. I only know because I’m friends with one of his neighbours. The Father was never a ray of sunshine before that happened and he’s even worse now. The kid has had a really hard life.”

Ian took a deep breath, his mind rushing back to Mickey again.

“So have you, from what I heard,” she spoke quietly, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I’m sorry you have bipolar disease. I can't imagine it has been easy."

“Should I have mentioned it before?" he asked, a bit of worry in his voice.  
  
She watched him for a moment before sighing. "You're taking medication?"  
  
"I am, for a few years now," he nodded. "First few recipes they gave me didn't work the best and I didn't really help myself either but for a few years now, the meds have been good. They keep me balanced and exercise helps. Being with my boyfriend helps too.”

“He takes care of you?”

“Yeah, but I meant being with the person I care about more than anything else in the world, that gives me a lot of peace inside,” he said, smiling faintly. “Sometimes all someone needs is another person in their life. Could be a friend, a sibling, a lover. I got lucky enough I found my soulmate when I was fifteen. But don’t tell him I said that. He’d be fucking pissed if he knew I was telling you this right now.”

She chuckled gently but made no other comment.

“We’ve been together on and off for the past decade. We both screwed the relationship up a lot, me more than him in recent years but we’re together now and that’s what matters. Makes all that shit we went through worth it, in a way,” he shrugged before his voice grew quiet. “Ben reminds me a lot of him.”

“Then maybe you can reach him better than the rest of us,” she said, her smile growing by a fraction as her gaze moved towards the other kids. “You have a good way with them. Maybe you’ll be a good fit here after all.”

He smiled wryly as she walked away. Falling back onto the chair, he rubbed his hands over his face, unable to stop the thoughts that lingered in his mind.

  
********

Making his way inside the apartment, Ian dropped his keys on the small table by the door and rushed towards the bathroom. Walking out after a hot shower, he dressed in sweats and left his top bare, sinking down on the couch with a bottle of water. Leaning his head back, he took a sip of his drink and closed his eyes. The memory that flooded his mind was the day Terry had walked in on them. Remembering the violence made Ian snap his eyes back open. He sat forward and dropped the bottle on the table, letting his hands run through his hair, his fingers gripping the strands tight. He stayed that way for several minutes, unable to keep the thoughts away when the door flew open and Mickey barged inside.

“Holy fucking shit,” he grumbled, moving slowly towards the couch.

Taking a deep breath, Ian let his face form into a smile as he whirled around. “You look like shit.”

“Clyde’s brother Antonne’s my new trainer. Dude’s a fucking Drill Sergeant. Every fucking bone in my body hurts.”

Climbing to his feet, Ian moved around the couch and pulled Mickey close, tucking the shorter man against his chest as his arms wrapped around him. As much as Mickey welcomed the affection now, he still shrugged away Ian’s gentle touches from time to time. Ian had always hated Terry for all the pain he’d caused but those moments when Mickey would pull away made his hatred for the older man grow even stronger.

“Fuck, I need a shower,” Mickey growled, pulling away from the warm embrace. “Come grab me if I’m not out in five minutes. Don’t wanna fall to my death in there ‘cause I’m so fucking tired.”

“You hungry? Want me to heat something up?” Ian asked him.

“Nah, just be in bed when I get out. Want you to fucking hold me for a while,” Mickey said and instantly showed his middle finger when Ian smiled. “You better not fucking repeat me saying that.”

He stormed into the bathroom as Ian watched him go. Being alone again brought his earlier thoughts back to the forefront of his mind. Desperate to keep the thoughts away, he made his way towards their bedroom, grabbing the bottle of sweet almond oil he had bought a while back. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he let the soothing sounds from the shower calm his mind. When the door opened a while later, Mickey walked out in a pair of clean boxers, leaving the rest of his clothes in a heap on the ground. Ian smiled at him fondly, pulling Mickey between his open legs and wrapping his arms around his waist. Pressing a kiss to his chest, he trailed his mouth up to Mickey’s heart and let his lips linger.

“You okay?” Mickey asked, running his hands through Ian’s hair and pulling his head back.

“I’m fine,” Ian managed a smile. “Get on the bed. I’ll give you a massage.”

Mickey’s eyes perked up and Ian couldn’t help but laugh at the eager way his boyfriend tossed himself on the mattress, laying on his stomach while his arms wrapped under the pillow. Climbing over his body, Ian straddled his legs and poured some oil on his hands. When his fingers started working the tight muscles, the satisfied groan Mickey gave warmed his heart.

“Fuck being a Counselor. You got magic fucking hands,” Mickey mumbled into the pillow.

“I thought you already knew that,” Ian smiled, letting his hands travel down over Mickey’s boxers briefly before moving back to his shoulders.

“Forget I fucking said anything,” Mickey growled. “Those hands can only fucking touch _me_ like that.”

He smirked as he leaned down and pressed a kiss on Mickey’s neck, keeping his body close as he worked his hands down the shoulders to his biceps.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Mickey moaned.

“You gotta stop making those noises, Mick,” he chuckled. “If you keep moaning, I’m gonna fuck you and you’re too exhausted right now.”

“Never too tired for that,” Mickey smiled into the pillow.

Smiling softly, he moved his hands around Mickey’s body, massaging the ache from his muscles.

“So the new guy’s training you pretty hard?”

“Fucking psycho,” Mickey growled. “I mean, it’s pretty fucking obvious the guy knows what the fuck he’s talking about but he’s serious about his shit.”

“You can take it,” he spoke quietly, his hands stopping on Mickey’s shoulders. “You can take anything.”

Hearing the change in his voice, Mickey lifted up from the mattress and looked over his shoulder. Seeing the hurt look in Ian’s eyes, he pushed his boyfriend off his body and turned to face him, the pain in his muscles nearly gone.

“How was your first day?”

Ian released a deep breath, reaching out to take Mickey’s hand. He felt Mickey’s slight tremble at the touch, instinct from years of fear and hidden truths, before Mickey tightened his grip and held on.

“The woman who runs the place, Molly, she’s pretty good. Bit of a hardass but she has her own reasons and I like her,” he started. “She introduced me to the other Counselors working there. They all seem decent enough.”

He held the part about Steve to himself. Ian always loved Mickey’s jealousy, it was one of the things they had in common, a need to stake claim over each other when a stranger’s eyes lingered too long on either one. But as much as the possessiveness made him smile, he didn’t want Mickey sidetracked.

“Met a kid, a teenage boy. Reminded me a lot of you,” he smiled at Mickey’s frown. “Had masking tape around his fingers, the words GO TO HELL spelled out.”

Mickey snorted at the image. “Kid’s a fucking amateur. Get ’em real or don’t get nothing else to cover your fingers up.”

Ian’s smile slowly fell away as he stared at Mickey’s hands.

“He reminded me so much of you, Mick.”

“Was he a tough guy or something?” he asked, not bothering to hide his smirk.

“Yeah,” Ian smiled, looking back up. “Pretty tough kid. I told him a bit about myself, wanted to see if he’d open up. He got upset and walked off.”

“You’re going back tomorrow, right?” Mickey asked and Ian nodded. “Think that’s part of the fucking job, man. Never giving up or whatever.”

“Yeah,” Ian said absently.

They stayed silent for another few seconds until Mickey finally sighed.

“Wanna tell me what the fuck is on your mind?”

Ian met his gaze and the pain Mickey saw staring back took him by surprise.

“What the fuck happened?”

“I pushed you to come out, didn’t I?” Ian suddenly asked.

Mickey watched him for a moment as a frown filled his face. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The night of Yev’s Christening, at the Alibi, I forced you to come out.”

“Why the fuck are we talking about that shit? That’s ancient fucking history.”

“We’re talking about it now because we never talked about it back then,” Ian cut him off, tightening his grip so Mickey couldn’t pull away. “I made you come out. I don’t think I ever apologized for that.”

“It’s in the past,” Mickey started but Ian shook his head.

“Just let me say this,” he said, releasing a heavy sigh. “I think because my own family was so easy with me coming out, Fiona, Lip and the rest anyway, it never really registered that other families could be different. I mean, I knew. It was the fucking South Side. Of course I knew but it just never really registered how differently other people could react. My family sucked but there were other families out there that were worse than mine.”

Mickey lowered his gaze and watched as Ian freed one of his hands to trail over Mickey’s arm, his thumb tracing over a faint scar.

“Where did you get this one?”

“Ian, this shit’s in the past where it should be.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want but I’d like to know.”

Sighing softly, Mickey stared at the faded scar running from his wrist to his elbow. “Terry came home drunk one night. Fuck, when wasn’t he drunk but he was fucking wasted that night. Think I was ten. He started smashing up the house, fucked up on booze and some other shot he snorted. Mandy got scared, came out to see what he was doing and he fucking grabbed her. I just kinda ran out and pushed him off and he fucking threw me into the glass table. The shit broke and it cut me on my arm. He started yelling ‘cause I was bleeding, smacked me around for making a mess. Fucking asshole.”

Ian swallowed the lump in his throat, taking a breath to stop his tears from filling his eyes. His hand traveled from Mickey’s arm to his chest, stopping at the spot just below his heart, a small scar blemishing the skin.

“I was twelve,” Mickey spoke quietly. “He took me on my first run. I fucked up being lookout and he shoved a broken bottle at me, said he’d kill me next time. I was fucking bleeding but he smacked me on the side of the head, fucking knocked me out. When I woke up, we were back home. He left me in the fucking car and Mandy was huddled beside me with a blanket.”

Ian released his breath and let his hands travel up Mickey’s face to the small scar on his forehead that disappeared into his hairline.

“We never talked about that day.”

Tensing at the mention, Mickey pulled himself away and leaned over to grab a smoke from his nightstand. Lighting it up, he let the smoke fill his lungs before roughly pushing it out.

“Nothing to fucking talk about,” he finally said. “That shit’s buried in the past.”

“I want to apologize,” Ian spoke softly.

“Jesus, Gallagher,” Mickey snapped. “Quit with the fucking apologies.”

“Terry was an evil fucking piece of shit,” Ian growled, his own anger rising. “He fucking hurt you so many times.”

“None of this is news! Why the fuck are you bringing it up now?” Mickey shouted, jumping to his feet from the bed.

“Because of what he fucking did to you that day!” Ian shouted back. “He almost killed you and then he brought Lana…”

“I remember what happened! You think I can forget?” Mickey snapped, pacing in the room. “Why the fuck do you think I couldn’t look at my kid when he was born? I couldn’t look at him or fucking hold him because all it did was make me fucking remember him holding that gun to your head and almost fucking killing you, almost fucking killing me! Then forcing Lana…”

He rubbed his face harshly and stubbed the smoke out in the ashtray.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Ian whispered and Mickey spun back around to face him.

“Why the fuck are you apologizing, man? He was _my_ fucking Father!”

“Because I knew what he did to you, what he’d done to you all your life and I still fucking called you a coward and forced you to come out!” Ian shouted, the anger he was feeling directed at himself. “All I could see was us ending and thinking you were a coward for not being true to yourself. I never fucking let it register that you were traumatized. Fuck, Mickey! I’m so fucking sorry!”

Mickey felt all his anger fall away as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I hated you for a long time for that,” he finally said and Ian’s eyes snapped back to his. “I hated that you gave me a fucking ultimatum but how I felt about you was stronger so I let all that other shit go. Then everything else happened and it didn’t matter anymore.”

Sighing heavily, Mickey took a step towards him.

“Look, you remember that day and I fucking remember beating you when you came to the warehouse,” he spoke quietly. “I remember hurting you, taking my fucking anger and pain out on you. I never fucking apologized either.”

“Mick,” Ian shook his head. “That was different.”

“Ian, we’ve both fucked up more than once and yeah, it fucking killed me when you left me at the border. That shit hurt more than anything else, even more than when you dumped me or fucking cheated or left me in prison by myself. I mean, back then you had the fucking bipolar to excuse all that shit but Mexico?”

He shook his head before sighing again.

“What I’m trying to fucking say is that we can stand here and talk about all the ways we both fucked up until we pass out but I need you to let it rest. You’re sorry? I’m fucking sorry too. I’m asking you to leave it alone ‘cause I can’t go back there,” he said and Ian nodded as he looked away. “Just keep one thing in fucking mind.”

Ian quickly let his eyes lock with Mickey’s again.

“I needed to do that, to say what I did at the bar that night. I couldn’t keep lying, living the way I was, fucking scared of him all the time.”

Ian reached out to touch his cheek and smiled when Mickey didn’t pull back.

“But we gotta stop living in the fucking past,” he added. “I told you that already. I don’t wanna let Terry have any more fucking power over us than he already had. This, you and me, this is good. We fucking love each other, right?”

Ian’s smile widened as he nodded.

“Then just fucking be with me, man,” Mickey said. 

Before he could say anything else, Ian pulled him against his chest, crashing their lips together. The kiss was hard and long, letting their lips speak the words they were too exhausted to say. When they finally pulled back to catch their breaths, Ian pressed their foreheads together.

“I love you so fucking much.”

“Then stop being a fucking idiot,” Mickey said, his voice quiet as a small private smile curved his lips. “Love you too.”

Smiling at the words, Ian buried his face against Mickey’s neck, letting his arms close around his body as he breathed him in. They stood wrapped around each other for several seconds until Mickey finally pushed him back.

“You done being all fucking emotional now?” he grumbled, moving back to lie on the bed.

Crawling over him, Ian snuggled up behind Mickey, spooning him from behind. Pulling the sheet up to cover their bodies, he let his arm wrap around Mickey’s torso, their hands tangling together. Pressing his lips to Mickey’s bare shoulder, he laid gentle kisses on the skin before he snuggled even closer and tightened his arm.

“I know I’m a hypocrite,” he started quietly. “But please don’t ever fucking leave me.”

Snorting fondly, Mickey lowered his head to press a quick kiss to Ian’s hand. “I haven’t left you yet, have I?”

Mickey closed his eyes and let his exhaustion take over, falling asleep with Ian’s warmth wrapped around him. As Ian’s own sleep slowly crept in, he played with Mickey’s hand, stopping at the finger where the ring he meant to buy would eventually wrap around.


	8. EIGHT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Vacation and moving took up so much of my time

*****

Watching the young girl walk away with a smile, Ian felt a lightness in his heart. Rising from his spot on the bench, he made his way through the courtyard, waving at the kids he could recognize. When his eyes caught sight of Ben on his own in the corner of the yard, he took a breath and started walking his way. Instead of waiting for Ian’s arrival, Ben quickly pushed away from the fence and threw both middle fingers in the air before disappearing through the doors inside.

“Don’t take it to heart,” Molly’s voice brought him back around. “We just have to be here for them. When they’re ready, they’ll come to us.”

“I get it,” he nodded.

She gave him a small smile before walking down the hallway towards her office. Glancing down at his watch, he felt his stomach grumble. As he made his way towards the small break room, he caught Steve’s approach from the corner of his eye. Grabbing his lunch bag, he quickly spotted Nia sitting on her own and walked over, the desperate look in his eyes making her laugh and wave him down.

“Steve already trying to get his claws in you?” she chuckled, taking a bite of her lunch.

“The guy’s persistent even though he knows I’m with someone,” he sighed, leaning back in his seat and sipping his juice. “How long have you been here?”

“Been with Molly from the start,” she smiled. “We were both social workers, became friends at work. Neither of us could handle the stress of the job anymore so we got to talking. I stayed where I was a while longer but one day she came by, told me she had opened this place and wanted me here with her. I couldn’t say no.”

“What you guys are doing here, it matters,” he said, his words making her smile soften.

“Even if it helps these kids just a little, that in itself can be a lot,” she replied. “Word is you were released from prison. Gay Jesus, I believe?”

“Does everyone know?” he groaned.

“It’s a small place. Word travels fast. You can thank Steve for that,” she chuckled.

“Asshole,” he muttered and they shared another smile.

They spent a few minutes finishing their food until Ian’s eyes caught the ring on her hand.

“Married?”

“Yes, I am,” she grinned proudly. “Been married to my wife for six years.”

“How is that, if you don’t mind me asking?” he started. “I just mean being where we are, where we live.”

“Homophobic assholes exist everywhere, Ian,” she shrugged. “Some places are more tolerant, more accepting, others are worse. But that’s all background noise in the end. If the relationship is worth it, you’ll make it work no matter where you are. The rest is just nonsense.”

“My boyfriend,” he said and sighed. “We’ve been together on and off since we were in our teens. We made a lot of mistakes between the two of us but life wasn’t kind to us either. Neither of our family situations were that great, especially his. We broke up a bunch of times but we’re together now and we’re gonna stay together this time.”

“You love him?” she asked kindly.

“More than anything,” he smiled. “A friend of ours mentioned marriage to me a while ago and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Is your boyfriend into the idea?” she asked, finishing her coffee.

“He’s not in the closet anymore but we don’t exactly go around flaunting our relationship down the street either. That’s not really us,” he sighed. “But marriage? He has reasons to be against it, pretty valid ones. I’ve pushed him in the past before. I don’t want to do that again.”

“If it feels right, it’ll happen,” she assured him. “Don’t stress yourself out over it. When the time is right, you’ll know.”

He smiled at her comforting words and leaned back in his chair. “I heard Beth talking earlier about going for drinks after hours?”

“Molly wants to treat us out tonight. Significant others are welcome as always,” she nodded, pushing back from the table. “You should come and bring that boyfriend of yours. I’d like to meet him and if nothing else, you’ll get Steve off your back.”

She winked and walked out of the room as he laughed, watching her go. Once he was back outside in the courtyard again, he noticed a young boy sitting on his own near the swings, his gaze cast down towards his bruised fists. Making his way over, Ian settled on the ground beside him, waiting until the boy had looked up before smiling, oblivious to Ben watching curiously from the hallway.

  
********

“Alright kid, give me a jab, lead uppercut, lead hook.”

Mickey did the drill against the mitts as he and Antonne moved around the ring.

“Remember when you throw the uppercut, cut through the air with all the different angles,” the older man coached, holding the mitts back up. “Lead uppercut, lead uppercut, jab, jab, lead hook.”

Doing the drill without error, Mickey moved backwards on his feet, his gloves held up at his chest.

“That’s good, kid. Now give me jab, jab, lead uppercut, lead hook and repeat it three times. Get your fluidity going.”

Mickey bounced from left to right and did the drill, smiling when Antonne pat his shoulder at the end.

“Let’s see how good you are going right to left,” Antonne grinned. “Straight uppercut, hook. Straight uppercut, hook. Jab, jab, lead uppercut, jab, lead hook.”

“Fucking asshole,” Mickey chuckled, rolling his shoulders backwards.

“You planning on whining or boxing, kid?”

Rising to the challenge, Mickey threw the different pattern, ending with a strong hook that sent a laughing Antonne backwards a step.

“Fucking strong arm you got there,” he nodded. “Can you work your own pattern now? Let’s see what you got.”

Mickey moved forward in an instant, throwing different punches as he switched from right to left and back to right, ending with a triple jab that had Antonne laughing again.

“You’re getting me all excited,” he smiled, leaning back against the ropes to catch his breath. “You fight like a fucking champion in here. You sure you’ve never trained before?”

“Just fucked around the neighbourhood when I was a kid. South Side, man. You know how it is,” Mickey shrugged, bouncing from his back to front foot to keep his energy high.

“It usually takes a boxer weeks to get the perfect pattern but you got it down in days. I’m not easily impressed but I’ll admit that I am.”

“Hey!” Clyde cut through their conversation, walking up to the ropes and slipping inside the ring. “How’s the training going?”

“Honestly, he’s got it down pretty damn good,” Antonne replied. “Long range, short range, left and right sequence, he’s got it all.”

“So you see some sort of future?”

“I really fucking do,” Antonne nodded.

“Look man, I don’t need no empty praise or any of that shit,” Mickey cut in. “Are you being fucking serious right now?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking serious,” Antonne chuckled. “I’ve trained with a lot of mediocre guys and I’ve trained with a few really good ones too. You’re on top of that list. No problem with fluidity, you don’t get stuck in a combination that would open you up to taking hits, leave you defenseless. I thought you had to work on your bounce, to get the lead out of your legs but you got that fucking mastered in a single day. I can’t even pin down a fucking pattern with you unless I tell you what to throw. You’ve got the boxer-puncher style, fighting at close range, switching between different combos, high on power with every hit. You’re unpredictable in the ring. Can sense you itching for the knockout hit.

“Haven’t seen that in a long while,” Clyde smiled, turning back to Mickey. “He’s complimenting you, kid. Trust me, coming from my brother, that goes a long way.”

Mickey bit his lip to hold his smile, nervous from the sudden praise.

“I’m really glad to hear all that since I just booked you a fight,” Clyde said, grinning at Mickey’s sudden silence. “Three nights from now, right here in this gym, I booked you to fight with Bobby Miller.”

“Bobby’s a fucking daisy compared to this kid,” Antonne chuckled. “At least get him someone worth fighting.”

“Problem is you’re just starting out. No one in the boxing circuit’s heard of you so no decent agent’s willing to let you fight their guys. You gotta start at the bottom and work your way up but you’ve got the talent.”

“Fuck all that other noise, man,” Mickey grinned. “You got me an actual fight? Sounds fucking awesome.”

Both brothers chuckled at his enthusiasm as they slipped back down from the ring. Pulling his gloves off, Mickey started moving to the maintenance closet when Clyde reached out to stop him.

“You’re good for the day. Go take a shower and get out of here.”

Happy not to argue, Mickey disappeared down the hallway towards the showers, the smile on his face insistent.

  
********

“So I told him to put a cork in it,” Steve finished, snorting at his own story.

Nia tossed a glance at Ian, doing her best to hold in her laughter at Steve’s ridiculous display.

“Was that supposed to be funny?”

Ian chuckled at Nia’s wife, having grown fond of Ellen in the thirty minutes they’d mingled after arriving at the club. Nia quickly shushed her wife but the spark in her eyes spoke a different story.

“So, where’s your boyfriend?” Steve asked, ignoring the loud groan from the rest of the group.

“He’s just running late,” Ian replied, glancing towards the doors through the mass of people dancing.

“How about we get the night started and have a dance?”

“Steve,” Ian started, turning towards the other man with a sigh. “I’m taken and by that, I mean seriously taken as in not planning on leaving my boyfriend ever.”

The other man’s face quickly soured but Ian looked away to stop himself from making another comment. When his gaze fell on Mickey walking through the doors seconds later, his face morphed into a wide grin, pushing his way through the crowd.

“Hey man, sorry I’m late but you won’t fucking believe what…”

Not giving him the chance to finish, Ian cut him off with a bruising kiss, letting his arms wrap around Mickey’s waist and pulling his boyfriend tight against him.

“Fuck,” Mickey breathed, licking his lips when they moved back for air. “The fuck was that for?”

“I missed you,” Ian grinned, leaning in to kiss him again.

Realizing where they were standing, Mickey cleared his throat and moved back a step, his eyes flying around the people dancing around them.

“Quit the PDA shit,” he growled but the blush on his cheeks gave him away.

“I cut you off earlier. What were you gonna say?”

“Clyde booked me a fight.”

“Mick, are you serious? That’s fucking amazing!” Ian exclaimed.

As much as he wanted to pull Mickey into another embrace, he grabbed his arm instead.

“Come on, let me introduce you to everyone.”

They made their way towards the group and Ian’s smile grew at the soft look on Nia’s face.

“This is Molly,” he started. “She’s in charge at the center. Real hardass but I kinda like her too.”

She rolled her eyes fondly as Ian introduced the rest of the group, quickly moving past Steve.

“This is my boyfriend, Mickey,” he finally said, watching as Mickey raised his hand and waved, the smile on his face genuine.

“Never been here before. They got good drinks?” he asked, his eyes falling on Steve. “Not fruity drinks like that. Actual fucking liquor.”

Nia laughed at Steve’s shriek of indignation. “The bartender’s a friend. Just tell her Nia sent you. She’ll hook you up.”

“I like you already,” Mickey told her and looked to Ian. “You want a beer or did you have one already?”

“I can get him one,” Steve cut in and both men turned towards him with a glare.

“Sticking to water tonight,” Ian sighed, facing Mickey again and leaning down. “Hurry up and get your drink. I want to dance with you.”

“Like that’ll fucking happen,” Mickey snorted.

Glancing around them to see the others engaged in their own conversations, Ian pressed even closer, his hand slipping dangerously low between them.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Mickey growled but the darkness in his eyes made Ian’s smile turn into wicked grin.

Pushing past him, Mickey made his way towards the bar, slipping through a small gap and waving the bartender down. Ordering his shot of whisky, he nodded back towards Nia and the bartender smiled before making his drink a double. Tossing back the booze, he dropped the glass on the counter and the bartender quickly filled it up again. Giving him a final wink, she made her way back down the bar as Mickey sipped his second more slowly.

“Never seen you here before,” the sudden voice made him spin towards his left to see a bulky man smiling down at him. “Been watching you from the other side of the room ever since you walked up to the bar.”

Mickey snorted and took another sip. “Why don’t you go back over there and keep watching.”

“Hard to get is my favorite,” the man smirked, inching closer.

“Not playing hard to get, douchebag,” Mickey scoffed, taking a step to the side.

Across the room, Ian smiled at Nia as she slipped her arm around her wife.

“Your boyfriend seems nice,” she commented.

“Mickey and nice don’t really go together,” he chuckled. “But he’s pretty fucking amazing in my eyes. Just don’t tell him I said that. He’ll kick my ass.”

“Your boyfriend hits you?” Steve pushed himself into the conversation. “Shouldn’t be surprised. Thug like that is bound to be violent.”

“Oh fuck off, Steve!” Nia snapped, the alcohol in her system lowering the usual politeness she carried.

“Yeah, fuck off Steve,” Ellen repeated and both women burst into giggles.

“You seriously need to back off,” Ian said before his eyes froze over Steve’s shoulder, his expression morphing into sudden anger.

Pushing his way through the crowd, he stormed towards the bar just as Mickey shoved the persistent man back a few steps.

“You fucking deaf or something? Back the fuck up.”

Before the man could open his mouth and protest, Ian slipped between them and slid his arm around Mickey’s shoulders.

“There a fucking problem here?”

“Who’s the ginger? He here to rescue you?”

“He’s my fucking boyfriend and I don’t need him rescuing me ‘cause I’m about to whoop your ass on my own in two seconds!” Mickey growled, getting into the man’s face. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll back the fuck up unless you want your ass pounded and I don’t mean that in a good way.”

The man stared for another moment before ducking past them and disappearing through the crowd.

“Fucking assholes all over the place,” Mickey muttered.

Spinning him around, Ian pushed him hard against the counter and pressed their lips together, taking what he wanted from the kiss. Not caring that they had an audience, he let his lips travel down Mickey’s neck, taking a rough bite at his throat before finally pulling away.

“Marking your fucking territory or something? Fucking hell, man,” Mickey snapped, rubbing the bruise on his neck.

“Drives me fucking nuts when assholes hit on you like that,” Ian growled. “Thinks he can walk up and fucking touch you.”

Instead of anger like he expected, Mickey’s expression turned into one of amusement. “Possessive much?”

“I’ve always been possessive, Mick. Too fucking afraid to show it ‘cause I figured you’d bolt if I did,” Ian snorted. “Need to get a tattoo on you, somewhere visible. Property of Ian Gallagher. Then they’ll fucking know to stay away.”

“That shit didn’t work out well last time,” Mickey’s voice lowered, the memory hitting them both in an instant.

“Last time was different,” Ian spoke quietly. “Besides, I’d get one tattooed too. Property of Mickey Milkovich.”

Mickey snorted at the thought but made no effort to push Ian away. “Don’t you wanna get back to your friends?”

“No,” Ian shook his head. “I wanna go home and fuck you in our bed.”

Swallowing hard at the carefree words, Mickey quickly glanced around them out of habit.

“Besides, we gotta fucking celebrate you booking a fight,” Ian’s smile widened. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I want all the details.”

Pulling back, he grabbed Mickey’s arm and dragged him through the club, flushing at Nia’s wicked smile when he waved goodbye from a distance. Letting Mickey sit behind the wheel, they were on the road driving back to their apartment when Ian’s hand slid across the seats.

“You want me to crash?” Mickey grunted.

Instead of moving higher up, Ian let his hand settle on Mickey’s thigh, his fingers brushing back and forth. The quiet sigh he heard made him smile, his mood lifting for the rest of the drive. When they were standing in their hallway, pressed against the door, Ian let his lips trail down Mickey’s neck, his teeth grazing at the skin inch by inch.

“Never gonna get this fucking thing open if you keep doing that,” Mickey growled, finally pushing the key through.

Stumbling inside and shutting the door, they froze when Mandy poked her head up from the couch, remote in hand. Her smile grew wicked at their flushed faces, sitting straight to fully take in their appearance.

“Nice to see you guys too.”

“How the fuck did you get in here?” Mickey snapped, moving towards her. “I never gave you a key.”

“Please, Mickey,” she chuckled. “You taught me how to pick a lock when we were kids. Not like I forgot any of that shit.”

He rolled his eyes and moved towards the kitchen, tossing his jacket on the counter as he grabbed a beer. Throwing his own jacket behind the door, Ian collapsed on the couch next to Mandy, smiling at his friend.

“Move, douchebags,” Mickey growled, pushing Ian’s legs over to take a seat beside him.

“Did you guys have a good night?” Mandy asked, biting her lip to hide her smile when Ian’s arm dropped around Mickey’s shoulders out of habit. “The bruises on Mickey’s neck give that away.”

“Fucking asshole,” Mickey muttered, his hand going up to his throat to cover the marked skin.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Ian frowned, slapping his hand away. “We’re at home, Mick. It’s just Mandy.”

“Yeah, it’s just me,” she smiled innocently. “Besides, it’s not like I didn’t get a front row seat back when we all lived together.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Mickey asked.

“Ian, fuck me harder! Ian, fuck me slower!” she teased.

“I never said that shit!” Mickey snapped.

“Just like that! Harder, Ian! Harder!” Mandy cried before falling over in a fit of laughter.

Mickey gave them both the middle finger and pushed off the couch, rolling his eyes as he moved to their bedroom.

“You enjoying yourself over there?” Ian smiled.

“What?” she asked innocently. “I miss you guys.”

His smile softened as he reached over to puller her towards him. “We miss you too.”

_“I fucking don’t!”_ a shout came from the bedroom.

“Yes, he does,” Ian chuckled. “You want to stay the night? You can take Yev’s room if you want. He’s with Lana this week.”

“Yeah, that’ll be nice,” her smiled softened. “You should go before he throws a hissy fit.”

Ian laughed lightly and leaned in to kiss her cheek before making his way to their bedroom and closing the door behind him. Mickey had already stripped to his boxers, pulling the covers down to slip under the blanket. Smiling at the image before him, Ian paused removing his own clothes.

“You planning to get in here or stare at me all fucking night?”

The words snapped him back to the present and he quickly stripped down to his boxers before slipping into bed. Moving close, he wrapped his arms around Mickey from behind, letting his hands move across the warm chest.

“You feel so fucking good,” he sighed, pushing their boxers out of the way and using his fingers to loosen his boyfriend’s body.

Mickey let his eyes slip shut, his head falling backwards when Ian slid inside him. Their movements were slow and deep, bodies rocking together at a languid pace, the growing need for release burning between them with every thrust. Leaving one hand pressed over Mickey’s heart, Ian slid his other hand down to grab him, twisting his wrist as he moved his fingers below the edge. The moan was heavy from Mickey’s throat, his head twisting so they could press their lips together again. With a final sharp thrust, they moaned against each other and came, their bodies vibrating with the pleasure coursing through them.

Slowly slipping out, Ian reached for the closest clothing and wiped them down before pulling Mickey back in his arms, their legs tangling beneath the sheets. Their foreheads pressed together, both smiling softly, neither willing to look away.

“Can’t believe you have an actual fight booked,” Ian smiled. “How was training?”

“Really fucking good,” Mickey chuckled. “Antonne was praising me but it kinda went over my head.”

“Well, expect me front and center on fight night, cheering for my man.”

Mickey reached under the covers and pinched his nipple, the tight squeeze making Ian yelp before laughter took over.

“Go to sleep,” Mickey muttered, turning over and pulling Ian close so they were spooning. “When you go back to the center tomorrow, tell that fucking dipshit Steve to back the fuck off you or I’ll use my new boxing skills on his ugly fucking face.”

Ian smiled against his shoulder. “You noticed?”

“Yeah, I fucking noticed,” Mickey growled, pressing his head against the pillow.

Leaving a kiss on Mickey’s shoulder, Ian settled close before closing his own eyes. Without realizing, his hand curled around Mickey’s left, playing with the finger his heart yearned to put a ring on someday.


	9. NINE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language warning- a couple gay slurs used in this chapter.   
> Three more weeks until our guys are back!!! Did you all see the new intro? OMG :)

*****

Pacing down the sidewalk, Ian glanced at his watch for the twentieth time, ignoring the early morning traffic as the city woke around him. With a deep breath to settle his nerves, he leaned against the wall between the different shops, tilting his head towards the sun. When he’d stirred from his sleep that morning, his face had been buried deep in Mickey’s hair. Waking up together had always been Ian’s favorite part of each day, those few moments when the world around them was quiet and Mickey’s guard was still down.

“Ian, I love you but you better have a damn good reason for getting me out of bed before eight!” Mandy’s voice broke through his thoughts.

He smiled as she walked towards him, glancing past her shoulder to see Lip closing in.

“You got this jackass here too?” Mandy chuckled, ignoring the glare Lip tossed her way. “Gotta be something serious.”

“It is,” Ian nodded. “Thanks for coming. Both of you.”

“Wanna tell us why we’re here?” Lip glanced around them. “Tami’s got me on a diaper run.”

“Still can’t believe you have a kid,” Mandy rolled her eyes.

“Guys, focus!” Ian interrupted before a full blown argument could erupt. “I called you here ‘cause I need your help.”

“With what?” Lip asked, his face drawn into a bored scowl.

Instead of answering, Ian slipped behind and pushed them through a set of doors. Stopping just inside the entrance, Mandy glanced around the shop, turning back with a gasp when realization dawned.

“Are you serious?”

“What’s going on?” Lip frowned. “You buying us friendship bracelets?”

“No, you dumbass!” Mandy growled. “Ian, are you really serious? You’re gonna propose?”

Lip’s eyes widened as he took a step backwards, watching Ian smile at Mandy and give a quick nod. Her squeal vibrated off the walls as she jumped into his arms.

“Hold the fuck on,” Lip cut in when Mandy fell back to her feet. “You’re really gonna propose?”

“Yeah, I really fucking am,” Ian chuckled.

“Hi there!”

They glanced towards the counter to see a saleswoman waving them over.

“Hi,” Ian swallowed nervously. “I'd like to look at engagement rings.”

“That’s very sweet. My name is Kate and I’ll be more than happy to help you today.”

She reached for her key to unlock the display, pulling out a row of diamond engagement rings that sparkled under the shop lights.

“She’s a very lucky young lady,” Kate smiled.

Mandy broke into laughter as she shook her head. “It’s not for me. He’s planning on proposing to my _brother_.”

All three watched as Kate stared at them in silence. Before their mood could dampen, her smile grew genuinely wide.

“Then he’s a very lucky man,” she said, reaching out to pat Ian on his arm.

Replacing the tray back inside the drawer, Kate removed a new set of engagement rings for them to browse. Leaning down, Ian scanned through the different styles, passing over the usual golds and silvers before one finally caught his eyes.

“See one you like?” Mandy asked, noticing his pause.

“That’s it,” he said, reaching out to pull a ring from the tray.

“That’s a very popular choice,” Kate smiled. “The design is from Chicago’s own jeweler James Webster. It’s made from platinum and the two very subtle woven lines symbolize unity forever.”

“Holy shit, you’re really serious,” Lip scoffed, snapping from his daze when three sets of glares fell on him. “I don’t mean it like that. I just can’t believe it. My little brother, getting married.”

“Mickey still has to say yes first,” Mandy snorted, her words drawing the gazes onto her.

“You think he won’t?” Ian asked, swallowing hard.

She took a moment to take in his expression, the sudden nervous worry staring back at her enough to make her smile.

“He’ll say yes,” she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “He may freak out at first but he’ll say yes.”

“This is Mickey we’re all talking about, right?” Lip snorted.

When Mandy reached around Ian to smack his arm, Lip groaned from the pain and rolled his eyes.

“I’m kidding!” he grumbled but quickly softened when he saw the worry in his brother’s eyes. “Quit being a nervous wreck. The guy loves you. We all know that.”

Smile returning to his face, Ian whirled back towards Kate who was watching their exchange, amused. “How much?”

“This one is nine hundred and fifty.”

His smile instantly vanished as he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know why the hell I thought it would only be a couple hundred bucks. I guess you guys don’t do installments?”

“No, I’m sorry,” she shook her head.

“I’ll just come back later when I have enough money saved up.”

“No you won’t,” Mandy cut him off, twirling her head towards Kate. “We’ll take it.”

“Mandy, I don’t have the money right now,” Ian argued.

“Don’t worry about it. Lip and I will buy it for you,” she grinned. “You can pay us back later.”

“I’ll do what now?” Lip stepped closer, leaning across the counter to catch Mandy’s eyes.

“You’ll pitch in and help me buy your brother an engagement ring so he can go propose to _my_ brother!” she snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“Did you forget I have a baby at home? Diapers aren’t exactly cheap.”

“Guys, it’s okay,” Ian chuckled. “I’ll come back when I have the money. You don’t have to do this.”

“Yeah, we do,” Mandy shook her head. “All the screwups and mistakes aside, you and Mick are back together and for good this time. I want you happy. I want _Mickey_ happy.”

Both Gallagher brothers watched her for a long moment. Realizing her words were heartfelt, Ian pulled her against his chest and squeezed her hard.

“When you fucking put it that way,” Lip grumbled. “Yeah, we’ll pay for it.”

“I’m very happy for you!” Kate exclaimed. “Do you know your boyfriend’s ring size?”

She pushed a chart towards him and Ian chuckled as he pointed. “I’ve been playing with his finger a lot. It wasn’t easy but I sized it out. Surprised he never noticed.”

“Well, you’re actually very lucky. As this is one of our most popular engagement rings, we keep all sizes in stock. Otherwise, it would have been a week to get your order prepared,” Kate smiled. “How would you like to make the payment?”

Mandy grabbed Lip’s arm and dragged him towards the register. Watching them bicker as Kate completed the transaction, Ian finally turned away and rubbed the anxiety out from his face. He stood there for several seconds, letting the reality of his purchase sink in.

“Ian,” Lip’s voice cut through as he pressed the small box towards him. “We’re good to go, man.”

Mandy’s smile was enough to ease his nerves as Kate waved them goodbye. Standing outside with the sun basking down, engagement box gripped tight in his hand, Ian looked up to see a pair of grins staring back.

“I’m so fucking happy for you,” Mandy started, sniffling quietly. “You better not tell Mickey I got worked up like this!”

“Mandy,” Ian said, reaching out to pull her towards him. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Just don’t fuck it up again,” she whispered, pulling back to stare into his eyes. “You’re it for him, Ian.”

“He’s it for me too,” he nodded.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed, reaching in to punch his arm.

“What the fuck was that for?” he chuckled, rubbing at the sore spot.

“I fucking hate getting emotional,” she shrugged, tossing a wave over her shoulder before disappearing down the sidewalk.

“Shit,” Lip sighed, stepping forward. “You’re gonna propose to Mickey Milkovich.”

“I really am,” Ian nodded. “Thanks for this. It really means a lot.”

Shaking his head, Lip tried his hardest but couldn’t hide his smile. “Get out of here and get your ass engaged.”

“I’m not gonna do it right now,” Ian chuckled. “I gotta wait for the right moment and shit, you know?”

“Candlelight dinner for two?” Lip snorted. “He’ll kick your ass and say no.”

“Give me a little fucking credit,” Ian grinned. “When the moment feels right, I’ll ask him.”

Pulling his younger bother towards him, Lip hugged him quickly before pushing him away.

“Diaper duty,” he reminded, giving a small wink and jogging back across the street.

With the box gripped tightly in his hand, Ian took a deep breath and made his way towards the car. Sitting behind the wheel in silence, he lifted the lid and stared at the platinum vow.

  
********

Storming inside the apartment an hour later, Ian slammed the door behind him and moved towards the bedroom.

“Where’s the fucking fire?” Mickey chuckled, reaching down to zip his gym bag.

With a quick lick of his lips, Ian closed the distance between them, reaching out to wrap his arms around his boyfriend from behind.

“The fuck’s gotten into you?”

Instead of answering, Ian nosed behind Mickey’s ear and pressed himself even closer. “How long do you have?”

“Antonne’s gonna be here in a few minutes.

“That’s enough time,” he mumbled, spinning them around and pinning Mickey to the wall.

Mouthing at the stretch of neck he’d claimed as his long ago, Ian reached down to open their belts.

“I wanna feel you,” he whispered, pushing the jeans down to Mickey’s knees. “Just give me five minutes.”

“When the fuck’s it ever been five minutes?” Mickey moaned, their lips meeting in a rough kiss. “Always turns into a fucking hour.”

“That’s ‘cause you're a needy little bottom and I can never fuck you enough,” Ian smirked, sliding his hand down to grip him strong.

He cut the curse off Mickey's lips by gliding his tongue inside his boyfriend's warm mouth. The shrill buzzing from the intercom snapped them from their fog. Tilting his head to the side, Mickey tried to focus on the noise but Ian’s grip tightened and dragged his attention back.

“Ignore it. He’ll wait,” Ian growled, trailing his mouth down Mickey’s throat.

Before their lips could meet in the middle, a second buzzing pushed Mickey into movement. Yanking his shorts and jeans back up, he stumbled down the hallway towards the intercom.

_“Hurry up and get down here, kid! I’m not waiting all day!”_

Rolling his eyes at his trainer’s irritation, he opened his mouth to answer when Ian whirled him around and pressed their lips together. Falling harsh against the door, he slipped his hands in the back pockets of Ian’s jeans and pulled their bodies flush together. Before the kiss could heat the way they wanted, another buzz cut through their moment. Growling at the interruption, Mickey stepped away and jammed his fist against the intercom.

_“Get off your boyfriend’s dick and get down here!”_

“Fucking asshole,” Mickey snapped, grabbing Ian’s collar and yanking him in for a final, hard kiss. “I gotta go.”

Slipping under his arm, Mickey stumbled to the bedroom and grabbed his bag before making his way towards the door. Ian smiled as he pulled him back between his legs, kissing him softer than before.

“You sure everything’s okay? You’re acting fucking weird.”

Ian nodded as he ran his hands up Mickey’s back towards his shoulders. “I’ll see you later tonight for the fight.”

“You didn’t tell anyone, did you?” Mickey frowned. “I don’t need anyone watching me get my fucking ass kicked.”

“You’re not gonna get your ass kicked. You’ll be the one kicking ass,” Ian chuckled.

“I fucking mean it, Gallagher. Just you!”

Dragging him in for a final quick kiss, Ian pushed him through the door and watched as he disappeared down the stairs. Reaching down to feel the box inside his pocket, he closed the door and made his way towards the shower.

“Fucking finally,” Antonne rolled his eyes when Mickey slid in the passenger seat beside him. “You look all flushed, Mickey. Your boyfriend show you a good time upstairs?”

“Remember all that shit you said about me throwing good punches?” Mickey narrowed his eyes. “Keep talking.”

Laughing at the threat, Antonne put the car in gear and pulled onto the road.

“Where the hell are we going?” Mickey finally asked after several beats of silence.

“I’m taking you to the North Side,” Antonne replied. “Gonna show you a swanky ass gym they got over there.”

“Why the fuck do I care about that shit?” Mickey frowned.

“Just shut up and go along with it.”

The two men glared at one another before breaking into grins. Switching on the radio, they let the music fill the silence as they weaved in and out of traffic. Pulling off the main road half an hour later, Antonne drove towards a large strip mall and parked the car.

“This a gym?” Mickey asked, looking through his window at the large building.

“North Siders do it a bit different,” Antonne smirked. “Come on, let’s check it out.”

Walking through the doors side by side, they stopped behind the front desk to glance around themselves. Past the cardio equipment and punching bags that littered the front, a polished boxing ring sat at the center of the room, leather sides gleaming in the light shining down.

“Why’d you bring me here?” Mickey asked, turning towards his trainer with a frown.

“Look over there,” Antonne pointed towards the end of the room. “See that guy working on the punching bag? That’s Louis Denver. He’s welterweight too, a southpaw. Throws some good punches but not as quick on his feet. He’s making a name for himself though, slowly rising in the circuits.”

Motioning towards the other side of the ring, Antonne pointed out a taller boxer working with his trainer, his upper body covered in tattoos.

“That’s Hector Hernandez. He’s one mean beast. Also welterweight. Guy usually overpowers his opponents with a few heavy blows to the side, then gets a knockout two out of every five matches. Mean as shit but a damn good fighter.”

Mickey watched as Hector cracked his neck from side to side before lifting his gloves and pounding at the punching bag.

“But up there,” Antonne pointed to the boxer dancing inside the ring, throwing jabs at his practice rival. “That’s Willie Peters. Hector doesn’t even come close to him as far as mean sons of bitches go. Guy plays nasty in the ring but he’s got a lot of talent. Best welterweight in Chicago. Maybe even the best in the Midwest.”

The opponent held his gloves up to defend himself against the sudden onslaught but Willie was quick with his punches. Three jabs and an uppercut, he sent the younger man falling to the floor, holding his ribs from pain. Dancing around the fallen boxer, Willie threw his head back and laughed.

“Why the fuck you showing me these guys?” Mickey asked, looking away from the scene.

“I’m showing you ‘cause I want you to know who your competition is,” Antonne shrugged. “Mick, these guys are professional boxers. They’ve been training for years, have won two dozen titles between them in Chicago and the Midwest.”

“So I don’t stand a fucking chance?” Mickey scoffed.

“No,” Antonne shook his head. “Kid, I’m telling you I think you’re better than them all.”

Snorting at the compliment, Mickey motioned towards Willie in the ring. “You sniff some fucking drugs or something? You just said that guy’s a fucking animal.”

“Yeah, I did,” Antonne said, all trace of humor gone from his voice. “I still think you’ve got the edge over him.”

“Stop saying that shit,” Mickey started. “I’m never gonna be as fucking good as that.”

“You’re right. You’re not as good as he is. You’re _better_ than him.”

“Hey Antonne!”

They both looked up to see Willie walking towards them, a crooked smile curving his lips.

“It’s been a minute,” Willie nodded, reaching out with his gloveless hand to tap Antonne on his arm. “What are you doing here? Thought you went back to the South Side.”

“I did. Working with my brother Clyde at his gym,” Antonne nodded back.

“Anytime you wanna come back here, maybe I can work something out for you. Get you in to do some training with Louis or something.”

“I’m good, Willie, thanks,” Antonne’s smile fell away. “Wanted to introduce you to someone. This here is Mickey Milkovich.”

Mickey gave a quick nod, watching as Willie’s eyes scanned over him.

“He your new charity case?”

“The fuck you call me?” Mickey snapped.

“Calm down, killer,” Willie chuckled. “I meant no disrespect.”

“Not a charity case,” Antonne quickly cut in. “He’s a fighter, welterweight. Up and comer.”

“Yeah?” Willie asked, his grin widening again. “You any good, little man?”

Instead of answering with the jab he wanted, Mickey bit his tongue and looked away.

“Best I’ve seen in a long time. Kid throws one hell of a punch,” Antonne complimented.

“Those are mighty words you’re throwing for a newbie,” Willie spat. “I could kick this kid’s ass in the ring three times over without breaking a sweat.”

“Fuck you,” Mickey snorted.

“I didn’t bring you here to start a fight, Mick,” Antonne stepped between them. “Just wanted you to see the best in your weight group around these parts.”

“Damn right I’m the best and don’t you forget it!” Willie snapped before spinning around and sauntering back inside the ring.

“Guy needs a fucking punch to the nuts,” Mickey growled, rolling his eyes at Antonne’s knowing smile. “Never said I was a saint but that guy’s a fucking prick.”

“Well, that much you got right,” Antonne sighed. “I wanted you to see the best right now. That’s the three of them, right over there. But Mickey, if you can make it through your first few fights, get some wins under your belt, start building up your name, I really see you going a long way.”

“You got some history with this guy I should know about?” Mickey asked as they walked back towards the car.

“He dated my cousin a few years ago, back when I was training him. Son of a bitch was just as mean off the ring as he was on, but I never saw it back then. He treated my cousin like shit, knocked her around a few times. By the time Clyde and I found out, Willie already had a name for himself. She didn’t want to take it any further so I did the only thing I could and left. Went back to the South Side, started training guys at Clyde’s gym again.”

When Mickey turned towards him in the car, Antonne’s smile grew genuine.

“Guys like Willie, the ones that let the fame and talent go to their heads, they got nothing good inside their hearts. They use and abuse, nothing else. But guys like _you_ , ones that have been through a whole lot of shit in their lives and still came out the other side as good men, those are the ones who deserve a real chance.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Mickey said quietly. “Unless fucking Joe opened his damn mouth.”

“He only told me a little, some of the basics. Who your Father is, where you grew up, your stints in prison and some other bits. Nothing in detail,” Antonne assured him. “All I’m saying is that I see talent in you, Mickey. I see talent and I want you to rise through the ranks. Stick with me and I think you can.”

Seeing the look on Mickey’s face, Antonne chuckled as he pulled back on the road.

“You don’t have to make any decisions right now. Tonight, you’re fighting Bobby Miller. Should be an easy one in the bag. After that, we’ll take it one fight at a time, see where you land.”

“I’m not…,” Mickey started and sighed. “You know I’m with Ian, right?”

“Yeah, the nice red-head,” Antonne nodded. “What the fuck’s that got to go with anything?”

“You telling me people won’t make noise over that shit?” Mickey scoffed. “Or me just getting out of prison? In and out of juvie before that?”

“Let me tell you something. Boxing’s probably the number one sport when it comes to ex-felons. Lots of guys have done stints in prison but it’s also the best sport where ex-felons turned their lives around,” Antonne said as he switched lanes. “Who you wanna be with is none of anyone’s fucking business. If people make noise, you take all that shit and put it out in the ring. That’ll shut them up.”

Turning his gaze away, Mickey pressed his head back against his seat and stared outside, watching the cars pass by.

  
********

“Ian,” Molly waved him over.

Leaving the teenage boys to their game, he jogged across the courtyard and took a seat beside her on the bench.

“You’re doing good here,” she started, her smile proud. “The kids have really started opening up to you. Usually takes a while longer but you have a natural way about you. I’m glad to have you here.”

“Thanks,” he smiled gratefully.

“Right now, you’re doing three days here at the Center, is that right?” she asked, waiting until he nodded before speaking again. “How would you like to go full time?”

“Can you afford that?”

“We get funding from City Hall to run this place. It covers maintenance, food, activities and pays for all our wages,” she explained. “Having you here full time doesn’t alter things too much.”

“I’d love to,” Ian smiled. “Being here, it feels like we’re helping these kids. Sometimes, it’s just in small ways but it feels good. It feels right.”

“Good,” she smiled as they rose to their feet. “I’ll adjust the schedule for next week.”

Glancing around himself at the packed courtyard, Ian chuckled as an idea sprang to his mind.

“What would you think about taking some of the older kids to watch a boxing match tonight?”

“Boxing?” she asked, her brows knitting together.

“My boyfriend Mickey, he’s been training the past few weeks. The guys over at Clyde’s gym and his parole officer, they really took an interest in him. He’s got his first official fight tonight at Clyde’s. My shift’s done in an hour and I was gonna head over there. Maybe we can take some of the kids with us, the older ones.”

“It’s too early to close the Center,” Molly argued.

“I can stay,” Nia cut in, walking up to stand next to Ian. “I don’t mind. I’m sure the others won’t mind either. It’s only a couple hours anyway. You two go, take some of the kids with you. Take _Ben_.”

“I don’t know,” Molly sighed. “Boxing’s a bit violent.”

“It’s a sport,” Ian shrugged. “Maybe they’ll have a good time.”

Molly glanced towards Nia’s encouraging smile and finally relented.

  
********

Leading the way inside the gym, Ian glanced at the scattered seats around the ring filled with neighbourhood fans.

“Hey there, Ian,” Clyde greeted as he walked towards them. “What do we have here?”

“This is Molly, she runs the Youth Center that I work at,” Ian started. “Thought maybe we could show these guys a good time tonight. I’m not sure if I had to buy tickets or something. I forgot to ask Mick before.

“Don’t worry about that. What’s the age range?” Clyde asked.

“Fifteen to seventeen,” Molly answered.

“Yeah, alright, kids are old enough,” Clyde nodded. “We got some beverages and snacks lined up at the table over there. Can sit anywhere you want, nothing’s assigned. Match starts in ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” Molly smiled and turned to Ian. “Why don’t you go see Mickey and I’ll get these guys sorted out.”

Smiling gratefully, Ian moved through the crowd towards the locker room at the back. Slipping through the door, he stopped when his eyes spotted Mickey standing with his head pressed against the wall, eyes closed, dressed in boxing shorts with his top bare.

“Hey,” he called out, his smile growing when Mickey’s eyes snapped open.

Quickly closing the distance, Ian reached out and pulled Mickey against him, kissing him rough.

“Fuck, I needed that,” Mickey groaned when they leaned away.

“You look so fucking good,” Ian bit his lip, sliding his hand down his boyfriend’s chest. “Not too happy everyone else gets to see you like this.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey snorted. “You forget all about Boystown? Fucking danced half naked around a bunch of old fucking dudes.”

Ian laughed and leaned in to press their lips together again. “I brought Molly and some of the older kids from the Center.”

“No fucking pressure, right?” Mickey grumbled. “At least your family ain’t here.”

Ian stayed silent but the bright smile on his face gave him away.

“The fuck, Gallagher!”

Cutting him off, Ian slid his arms around Mickey’s back and pulled his boyfriend in, their bodies molding together as their lips found each other again.

“I fucking hate you sometimes,” Mickey sighed but the fond look in his eyes made Ian’s smile widen.

“Kick ass tonight, Mick!”

With a final kiss that left them both wanting more, Ian tore himself away and walked back outside towards the others. Falling into an empty chair next to Ben, he looked up when Vee’s hollering shout cut through all the noise. Walking behind her with his arms full of popcorn, Kevin gave a beaming smile with Lip, Mandy and Debs following them inside.

“Lip!” Ian snapped. “I told _you_ about the fight. Why the hell is everyone else here?”

“I thought we were family, Ian,” Vee crossed her arms at her chest. “Hurts me when lie like that.”

“Come the fuck on,” Ian chuckled. “You know what? I don’t care. All of you can deal with Mickey’s bitching when he comes out and sees you here.”

Vee’s smile quickly returned as she and Kevin slid towards the seats next to Molly.

“Where’s Franny?” Ian asked.

“Tami’s looking after the baby and Carl was left in charge of Franny,” Debbie said before a frown filled her face. “He’s not a complete idiot, right? It’s okay I left my baby with him?”

Lip and Ian exchanged glances and Debbie growled as she pushed past them.

“Gonna be fun watching Mickey get his ass kicked,” Lip grinned. “Which reminds me, you ask him yet?”

“No,” Ian hissed. “Will you shut up? I don’t want anyone to know.”

Bored by the conversation, Lip moved to take his seat beside Kevin.

“How’s my brother doing? He pacing around all nervous and shit?” Mandy asked.

The loud sound of the bell made Ian pull her towards their seats. “He’s got this in the bag. Guaranteed.”

Mandy seemed unconvinced as she turned her attention towards the ring, Glancing to his right, Ian smiled at Ben who sat with his signature scowl.

“This is pretty cool, don’t you think?”

Ben rolled his eyes but made no other comment.

“I want you to meet him. Probably not tonight but soon. You guys have a lot in common.”

“Shitty families and fucked up childhoods? That where you see the similarities?”

Reaching out, Ian placed his hand on Ben's shoulder, sighing when the younger boy flinched at the touch.

“I meant the tattoos,” he said, his words enough to lighten the mood as Ben snorted and looked away.

“Alright, hello and welcome,” Clyde’s voice cut through the conversations. “I’m Clyde like most of you already know. We got a new boxer fighting his first match tonight so be kind, folks. Kid’s already nervous.”

Quiet laughter filled the room as Clyde moved around the ring.

“So let's get the introductions out of the way. In the red corner, weighing in at a hundred and forty seven pounds, give a nice round of applause to neighbourhood champ, Bobby “Babyface Assassin” Miller!”

The crowd gave quick applause as the boxer came into view. Standing over six feet tall, Bobby made his way towards the ring, slipping under the ropes and stepping inside.

“That’s the guy Mickey’s fighting?” Lip asked before cracking into laughter. “He’s gonna get his ass kicked.”

“Stop that!” Vee smacked the back of his head.

“Yeah, show some support!” Kevin added, smiling at Vee’s pleased expression before turning towards Ian and opening his eyes wide.

“In the blue corner, weighing in at a hundred and forty two pounds is Mickey “The Rhino” Milkovich!” Clyde announced.

“The Rhino?” Mandy cackled. “That’ll go over well.”

As the crowd cheered, Mickey whirled around in the hallway, tossing Antonne a glare that made the other man lean backwards with a laugh.

“How the fuck do you look at me and see a rhino?”

“Yeah, we gotta work on that,” Antonne grinned. “Come on, kid. Let’s get out there.”

With a final deep breath, Mickey made his way towards the front, eyes taking in the seated crowd before he slipped through the ropes to stand inside.

“The fuck, Clyde?” he snapped, staring up at his tall opponent. 

“You got this,” Clyde winked, moving through the ropes and stepping back on ground.

Ignoring the monster standing before him, he whirled around until his eyes landed on Ian. The nerves inside him fell away when their eyes locked together, his boyfriend’s smile helping him gain his confidence back. When their gaze broke moments later, he finally noticed the crowed seated around him.

“Fucking Gallagher,” he grumbled, scanning through the smiling faces.

“Don’t get your ass kicked too hard, Mick!” Lip shouted and quickly groaned when Vee smacked his head again.

“You got this, Mickey! I’ve seen you take a bunch of guys all at once. This guy’s got nothing on you!” Kevin added, throwing him a pair of thumbs up.

Glancing back over his shoulder at his opponent, Mickey cursed under his breath. When he faced forward again, Mandy was standing at the ropes with a smirk.

“I could tell you that you’ll kick this guy’s ass but we both know he’ll be the one kicking yours.”

“Thanks for the fucking pep talk,” he mumbled.

Smiling at his words, she leaned forward and grabbed his shoulders. “You got this, Mick. Been fighting your whole life. Use all that anger and knock this fucker down.”

The grin he gave her made Mandy lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Hey Honey, you’re looking really good up there,” a guy shouted from the opposite side of the room. “You gonna tap that after the fight, Rhino?”

“That’s my sister!” Mickey shouted back. “How about you fuck off before I tear you a fucking new one?”

The guy held his hands up with a laugh as Mickey turned back towards a smiling Mandy.

“My fucking hero,” she chuckled. “Go get him, Rhino!”

He rolled his eyes as she moved back towards her seat, his gaze falling on Joe as he stood next to Clyde at the back of the room. Moving to his corner, he smacked his gloves together, bouncing on his feet to get his flow.

“Alright, Mickey, just do what we practiced,” Antonne smiled. “You’re a natural, kid. Just go out there and show them what you got.”

With a quick nod to his trainer, Mickey turned back around to watch the referee slip between the ropes and move to the center of the ring, waving him and Bobby to the middle.

“Alright boys, we went over the rules in the back already but I want to go over some again,” the referee stared between them. “No biting, spitting or kicking. Watch your low blows, kidney and rabbit punches. In case of a knockdown, you go to your corner until I say so. I want a good, clean match tonight. Got any questions?”

Both men shook their heads and the referee waved them back to their corners. With a final glance at Ian in the crowd, Mickey looked forward and sized his opponent up. When the bell rang signalling the start of the match, they moved in circles around the ring, keeping their eyes focused on each other.

“Come on, little man,” Bobby taunted. “Let’ see what you got!”

Moving forward, he threw a heavy uppercut but Mickey quickly ducked away, swinging around to the other side of the ring. Bobby chuckled at the quick move, spinning around and moving in again. Raising his gloves in defense, Mickey took the onslaught of jabs against his arms and side, inching backwards.

“Get out of there!” Antonne shouted.

Swinging his arm back, Bobby threw a heavy lead hook that caught on Mickey’s chin, sending him hard onto his back.

“Get up!” Antonne’s voice broke through his fog.

Laughing at the hit, Mickey rolled to his feet and glanced down at Ian, smiling at the worry he saw.

“They said you were the next best thing,” Bobby goaded. “Fucking amateur!”

They danced around each other once more, moving slowly, sizing each other up. With a smile full of confidence, Bobby rushed forward, lifting his arm to throw another punch. Ducking before the hit could reach him, Mickey whirled around and threw five jabs at Bobby’s side. The speedy hits made the taller boxer stumble backwards, giving Mickey the chance to push in close. Lead uppercut, lead hook, jab, jab, jab.

“Holy shit,” Ian laughed, watching as Bobby struggled against the quick string of hits.

Another three jabs and Mickey had Bobby pushed against the ropes, the older man holding his gloves up in defense. Six more hits and a final straight hook sent Bobby falling to the ground, clutching his sides. Bouncing on his heels with his gloves raised high, Mickey watched as the referee began his countdown. Struggling to his feet, Bobby growled through his anger and rushed forward but Mickey’s quick block was enough to spoil the onslaught. Lead uppercut, lead hook, straight hook and three more jabs sent Bobby back to the ground.

“Go Mickey!” Mandy shouted, jumping to her feet with Ian.

Moving forward, the referee began a second countdown. Instead of rising to his feet, Bobby threw his head back and waved his hand in the air. The referee signalled the end and Mickey looked up at Antonne in shock.

"Did I just fucking win?" he asked, eyes wide in shock.

All Antonne could do was nod and watch as the referee lifted Mickey's hand, declaring him the winner to the sounds of cheers from the crowd.

“Fuck, did he just win?” Lip asked, slowly rising to his feet.

Ian gave a beaming smile before he jumped through the ropes and moved inside the ring. 

“Fuck, I can't believe I won!" Mickey chuckled, ripping his gloves off and staring at his trainer who smiled back. 

“I told you that you would,” Antonne laughed before he glanced over Mickey’s shoulder. “Go celebrate for a minute. We’ll talk after.”

Spinning around, he smiled as he watched Ian rush towards him. With his arms wide open, Ian moved in for a hug but stopped at the last second, remembering where they were standing and the noisy crowd. Glancing through all the faces, Mickey looked back at Ian’s happy smile and smirked in reply.

“Fuck it,” he said, yanking Ian towards him and pressing their lips together.

Mickey could hear cheers in the distance, picking out the voices of Mandy and Vee but he pushed all the noise out of his mind and focused on the kiss. Pulling back after a heated moment, he looked into Ian’s eyes and saw the proud love shining back down.

“You fucking won,” Ian smiled, his hands gripping Mickey’s waist. “You fucking won and you kissed me in front of everyone, out in the open.”

“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” Mickey’s brow raised in challenge.

Ian shook his head and started leaning in again when Antonne moved beside them.

“A minute and six seconds,” he laughed. “For a boxer starting out, first official fight, that’s fucking unbelievable, Mick.”

“Fucking faggots.”

Spinning around, Mickey stared down at the same rowdy guys from before. Curling his fists, he made a move towards them when Antonne grabbed his arm and held him back.

“Homophobic Assholes one, two and three,” Antonne called towards them. “You know where the exit is. Get your fucking asses out the door.”

The three men grumbled their response but when Clyde moved towards them, they rose from their seats and disappeared through the crowd. Once the group was gone, Bobby made his way forward, arm still clutching his side.

“You’re good,” he conceded, giving a slight nod before walking away.

“Let’s go have a talk with Clyde. Give us a few minutes,” Antonne nodded at Ian before leading Mickey away.

“Told you he’d win,” Vee smiled brightly. “None of y’all seem to remember Mickey when he was a kid. He used to take on three, four guys at a time. Always smaller than the rest but always managed to kick all their asses.”

Ian laughed as he turned back towards Molly and the rest of their group.

“Your boyfriend’s not that bad,” Ben grunted.

“We gotta get you guys back to the Center but I really want you to meet him later on,” Ian smiled.

Ben watched him for another moment before finally nodding. Taking the nod as a win, he looked up and shared a smile with Molly.

“I’ll get them all back,” she started. “Vee and Kevin were nice enough to offer. You should go celebrate.”

Ian’s smile widened as he stepped back, watching the teens leave the gym with Vee, Kevin and Debbie leading them out.

“I guess I can’t say shit about him anymore,” Lip snorted. “I know fuck all about boxing but that was pretty awesome. Just don’t tell him I said that.”

Mandy laughed at his words and grabbed Ian’s shoulders. They shared a small smile before she waved her hand in Lip’s direction and motioned towards the exit. Rolling his eyes, he gave Ian a final nod and followed her out through the doors. Turning around, he watched as Mickey made his way back towards him, a gleam of sweat lighting his skin.

“Gave me the day off tomorrow,” he grinned. “Lemme go shower.”

“Don’t,” Ian shook his head. “You smell too fucking good right now. Let’s just go.”

“You and your fucking smell kink,” Mickey chuckled. “Don’t think I don’t know when you sniff me in bed.”

Throwing his head back with a laugh, Ian pushed him towards the locker room. “It’s not a fucking kink! I just like the way you smell.”

Smirking in response, Mickey spun around and disappeared down the hallway, returning seconds later dressed in his shirt and jacket with his bag tossed across his chest. Sliding behind the wheel outside, Ian waited until Mickey has settled in his seat before leaning across the middle to kiss him hard.

“Enough of that shit,” Mickey mumbled as he pulled away. “You, me, our bed and lots of fucking.”

Ian chuckled as he glanced towards the six pack of beer waiting in the backseat. “I got a better idea.”

  
********

“Our spot,” Mickey chuckled, falling onto the bench beneath the dugouts and leaning his back against the fence. “Shotgun!”

Grabbing one of the cans, he poked a hole on the side and took a large sip, passing it to Ian who finished in seconds. They pressed against each other on the bench, smiling for a moment before Mickey leapt to his feet and started chatting about the fight. Ian continued to watch him, smiling at the right moments, but his mind was focused somewhere else.

A decade ago, he’d been a scared fifteen year old kid, coming to terms with his own sexuality when Mandy had sent her brothers after him. Back then, Kash had been his refuge, allowing him to give into his desires the way he wanted. Going into the Milkovich house looking for the gun with Mickey sleeping soundly in his bed, that single moment had changed everything. Their first time together had been hasty, riddled with hormones going into overdrive, disrupted by a drunken Terry who hadn’t realized what he’d interrupted. He remembered looking back at that day in the immediate aftermath, seeing it as a one time deal, pushed on by the adrenaline coursing through them in the moment. When Mickey had showed up at the shop days later, the flutter Ian felt in his chest was one that surprised him, a feeling he never knew existed.

Their moments together had become a regular thing, a way to blow off steam with the person they wanted, but both were too chicken to admit. When his Mom had burst back into town, Ian’s first thoughts had gone to Mickey. He’d argued with himself that all he wanted was a physical distraction but it was comfort that he sought and Mickey gave that to him in spades. Those few precious moments, bodies molded together before Kash had barged inside, things between them had shifted again. For the first time, their emotions had bled through.

In between Mickey’s stints in juvie, they’d found moments to be together. Even though they’d chalked it up to physical needs that had to be met, both knew that things between them had changed. The dugouts had become their spot, a safe place they could go, away from the narrowed eyes of the world they lived in. After Mickey’s second release from juvie, things finally shifted again. Thinking back to Ned, all Ian could do was laugh at his own foolishness. He’d been the side piece for another older married man, convincing himself that the experience was what he craved. But deep down, it was an act of rebellion against the one person he really wanted. Seeing Mickey’s jealousy had made it all worth it. That same jealousy had led them to sharing their first kiss, two years in the making.

Pushing past the memory of that day in the Milkovich house with Terry and Svetlana, Ian tried hard not to dwell on that moment. As hard as it had been, being forced to watch at gunpoint, he knew his experience in no way compared with Mickey’s. They’d finally managed a quick discussion years after that day but Mickey had closed the door on the memory and all Ian could do was respect it.

When Mickey had come to find him, weeks after the wedding that had left them both heartbroken, it felt like the drug induced haze Ian was living in had finally lifted. Kissing at the club a few nights later, out in the open with every pair of eyes trained their way, another shift had happened. Sighing, Ian’s mind flashed back to Yev’s christening and the ultimatum he had given that day. Standing in the middle of the crowded bar, amidst his family and friends, Mickey had finally taken a stand. He’d declared his truth to a room full of silence, in front of the man that had forever scarred him, all because he loved Ian. It had been a freeing moment, one that Mickey desperately needed, but Ian still hated the role he had played. He’d allowed his own insecurities to dictate how he handled their situation, forcing Mickey to come out when he hadn’t been ready. That had been strike number one.

Looking up, he watched as Mickey continued talking about the fight, throwing punches in the air as he acted out the moment. The love that Ian felt in his chest almost ached, thinking how close they had been to never being together again. That moment in the Alibi had changed everything. Instead of taking the gift that Mickey had given, opening himself up in the most vulnerable way, Ian had made mistake after mistake. A lot of his choices, cheating and running off with Yev, he blamed on the disease. It had still been so new back then. They’d been nothing more than a couple teenagers, taking on the weight of a disease that neither could fully understand. But so much else of what he had done, Ian shouldered the blame. Ending things with Mickey, leaving him to rot away in prison, moving on with Caleb and Trevor without glancing back, all as if Mickey had never existed.

Breaking up with Mickey had been a twisted act of rebellion against the disease and how he thought he should have acted. In the end, all he had done was go back to the meds that regulated him, doing the one thing that Mickey had wanted. Thinking of Mickey, alone in prison, heartbroken, while he had moved on without him, his heart ached when he thought back to those moments. So many of his choices had little defense but none as much as Mexico.

Against all odds, Mickey had broken out of prison, his first stop being Ian’s doorstep. Having sex at the docks that night and then twice more in the van before sunrise ever hit, their bodies had moved together as if no time had passed at all. Leaving town with Mickey, giving him that false sense of hope before yanking it away, Ian couldn’t bring himself to excuse it. He knew why he did it and the choice had made sense to him back then in ways that it didn't now. But despite Mickey’s words of forgiveness, Ian couldn’t allow himself that same pardon. They'd moved on from that day, made promises that meant the world but a part of Ian's mind would always remember the border and the total look of heartbreak in Mickey's eyes.

When they had been younger, things had been vastly different. Mickey had been in the closet, terrified of the man he never thought he could escape. The day outside the warehouse, when Mickey had used his fists, something inside Ian had broken. But so much had changed after Mickey’s coming out. They’d been together, happy in their shared life with Lana and Yev before life threw them the biggest curveball. Everything had shattered after that. Finding each other in prison, it had been Mickey's ultimate declaration and Ian had grabbed onto that gift with both hands, vowing to never let go of the only man he had ever loved. They had started out as two boys terrified of their deep connection and stood now as two men in love, their future within touching grasp.

“Hey!” Mickey’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Ian quickly glanced up to see his boyfriend watching him, brows drawn together in confusion.

“What’s up with you? Why the fuck are you so quiet?”

“I love you,” Ian blurted, laughing at the wide eyes staring back at him. “Fuck, Mickey, I love you so fucking much.”

“Love you too,” Mickey answered quietly.

Closing the distance in one giant stride, Ian moved them backwards until he had Mickey pinned against the fence, leaning in to capture the lips that were his for life. Caleb, Trevor, Kash and Ned. None of them had ever come close to meaning the same to him as Mickey did. None of them could ever compare.

“I love you,” he repeated, voice rough with emotion.

“The fuck’s gotten into you?” Mickey swallowed, his nerves bleeding through his words.

Before Mickey could speak again, Ian stepped closer and let their lips glide together in the darkness, lit by a single lamppost overhead. He slid his tongue inside Mickey’s mouth, searching for the taste that was a drug to him, heart soaring when Mickey let a quiet moan escape. The kiss was slow but heated, Ian staking his claim in the best possible way.

“Something’s up with you,” Mickey sighed, reaching up to rub his bruised lips.

Ian eyes followed the movement with laser focus, the heat in his gaze making Mickey swallow hard as his heart ticked loudly between them.

“Are you mine?” Ian finally asked, lifting to lock their gazes together.

“This some possessive shit again?” Mickey snorted but the look in Ian’s eyes made him stop. “You really need to fucking ask me that?”

“I need to hear it,” Ian pleaded, pressing his body even closer.

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey mumbled, looking off to the side to get a lock on his emotions. “Been yours for a damn decade.”

Smiling at the words, Ian reached down to twine his hand with Mickey’s, lifting them to settle between their chests.

“You know I’m yours too, right? That I’ve loved you since I was fifteen?”

“Yeah, you fucking better,” Mickey smirked, his confidence coming back in small waves.

“I know I fucked up a lot and I made you doubt everything but I’m standing here, Mick, telling you that I love you. That you’re it for me and you always have been.”

“Alright, I believe you. Fuck!” Mickey chuckled. “You done being all emotional and shit?”

Taking a deep breath, Ian reached inside his pocket. Mickey watched the movement, his eyes going wide when Ian slipped the box open. The seconds ticked by like hours, Mickey’s shocked expression making Ian’s anxiety grow as he waited. Before he could open his mouth to ask the question, Mickey’s eyes quickly narrowed.

“The fuck, Gallagher!” he snapped, pushing Ian away. “Have you lost your fucking head?”

“Not the reaction I was looking for,” Ian chuckled, swallowing the hurt he felt inside.

“What the fuck else were you expecting? For me to burst into fucking tears, tell you some sappy shit?”

“I want you to say yes,” Ian shot back.

“Fuck,” Mickey mumbled, pacing back and forth in the small stretch of pavement. “We can’t get fucking married.”

“Why the fuck not?” Ian argued, his own anger rising at the broken moment.

“So you wanna marry me?” Mickey asked, spinning back towards him. “Are we gonna go down to the courthouse in some tuxes like a couple old queens?”

Ian recognized the words and his anger disappeared as quickly as it came. Taking a small step forward, he reached out to grip Mickey’s wrist, the touch loose enough to keep the other man from feeling caged.

“Yeah, I do,” he smiled. “It means thick and thin, good times, bad, sickness, health and all that shit.”

Pulling his hand free, Mickey turned around and faced the empty field, blinking through the sting of tears. Taking a deep breath, Ian inched forward until he was pressed up against him. When Mickey made no effort to move away, Ian took a chance and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“I wanna marry you,” he repeated. “I wanna call you my husband.”

“Fuck,” Mickey whispered, shutting his eyes as his shaking hand moved to rest over Ian’s.

“I want everyone to look down at the ring I’m gonna put on your finger and know that’s you’re taken. That you fucking belong to me and I belong to you.”

Lifting a hand to his face, Mickey hastily wiped the wetness from his eyes. They stood in silence, the words floating in the air around them.

“Sickness, health and all that other shit?” Mickey’s voice was quiet, repeating the words before untangling himself and turning back around. “You fucking idiot.”

Grabbing Ian’s face, he quickly closed the distance, letting their lips slide together in a frantic kiss. Their bodies wrestled until Mickey had Ian pinned against the fence.

“You really wanna do this?” he asked, watching Ian nod eagerly. “We gotta deal with assholes all the time, like those jerks at the fight. How much fucking harder is it gonna be with rings on our fucking hands?”

“None of that matters, Mick,” Ian shook his head. “Fuck all of them. Fuck everyone. It’s you and me.”

Lifting the lid, Ian withdrew the ring, tossing the box away. He watched as Mickey’s gaze zeroed in on the ring, eyes afraid as if the platinum band signified his fears and held the key to his happiness all the same.

“What do you say, Mick?” Ian asked, tilting to the side to catch his eyes. “Wanna make this official? Be my fucking husband?”

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey bit his lower lip before quietly nodding.

“Yeah?” Ian asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Shit,” Mickey whispered as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’ll fucking marry you.”

The wide smile he got in response made Mickey chuckle, watching on in silence as Ian slipped the ring across his finger.

“Holy shit,” Ian started. “We’re fucking engaged.”

“Get over here,” Mickey pleaded, hating the weakness in his own voice.

Pulling Ian towards him, they spun around again until Mickey’s back was pressed against the fence. Their mouths found one another in seconds, the kiss between them frenzied.

“Let’s go home,” Ian whispered between kisses, lowering his mouth to take a bite from Mickey’s neck.

The answering moan made him move even closer, his hands trailing down to pull Mickey flush against him. Rolling their hips in sync, their bodies moved together, kisses heating the air between them.

“Mick,” Ian mumbled, dragging his lips away. “Let’s go home.”

“Just get on me here,” Mickey whispered, eyes glazed as he moved closer again. "Fuck, Gallagher, I wanna feel you."

Ian reached up to tangle their hands together. “I wanna go home, I want you to wrap those nice legs around me, wearing nothing but that ring so I can fuck you long and hard.”

Tilting his head back, Mickey cursed under his breath and closed his eyes. Taking advantage of the tempting stretch of skin, Ian locked his lips to the exposed throat inches away, leaving a bruise that made Mickey’s fingers tighten in his hold. Slipping his knee between Mickey’s thighs, he pushed upwards and swallowed the answering moan, drunk off the noises that filled the space around them.

“You wanna fuck at home? Then get the fuck off me,” Mickey growled, pushing Ian away and taking a breath to calm his body down.

Ignoring the answering smirk, Mickey stepped around him and started heading for the car. Laughing at the agitation, Ian jogged forward and bumped Mickey’s shoulder from the side.

“I’m driving the fucking car,” Mickey said, reaching for the keys from Ian’s pocket.

“Need a distraction, Mick?” Ian chuckled, moving to sit in the passenger side.

“No, I wanna get fucked sometime tonight, Gallagher,” Mickey snorted, switching on the engine and pulling onto the road. “If I let you drive, we’ll get home in the fucking morning.”

Ian made a noise of protest that had Mickey rolling his eyes. The silence stretched for several seconds before Ian glanced over with a smirk, reaching across the seats to take Mickey’s free hand in his own.

“Come on,” he chuckled at the glare staring back. “We just got engaged, Mick. Let me hold your fucking hand for a moment, would ya?”

Instead of pulling away, Mickey made his grip even tighter, avoiding the ginger when Ian’s gaze softened.

“You were fucking amazing up there tonight. Did I say that already?”

“Don’t mind you saying that shit again,” Mickey shrugged.

“We’re engaged,” Ian started, laughing as he tilted his head to the side. “I’m gonna marry you, Mick. We’re gonna be husbands. Fuck, that sounds awesome.”

“We’re both nuts,” Mickey shook his head but the smile on his face gave his own excitement away.

Grinning at one another through the silence, they focused back on the road as they came to a stop behind a red light. Leaning across the seats, Ian tilted his head down and pressed a kiss to Mickey’s neck and shoulders.

“You’re gonna make me crash the fucking car,” Mickey whispered but made no effort to stop him.

The sudden flash of sirens made them jump back in surprise, staring through the back window to see a cop car signalling them from behind.

“What the fuck do they want?” Mickey asked, moving forward on the green and parking the car further down the block.

“We got a taillight out or something?” Ian asked.

“No, we don’t have a fucking taillight out,” Mickey grumbled.

They sat in silence for several seconds until the doors finally opened and two patrolmen approached them from the sides.

“Evening, officers,” Mickey offered them a broad smile. “What can we do for you fine gentlemen tonight?”

The lead officer at his window watched him for a long moment before glancing inside the car to eye Ian up and down. “Gonna need you to step outside the vehicle.”

“You gonna bother saying why?” Mickey frowned.

“I’m not going to ask you again. Step out of the vehicle, now.”

Quickly exchanging glances, they opened their doors and climbed out.

“Solicitation of a sexual act is against the law,” the cop started.

“The fuck?” Mickey chuckled. “You think he’s a prostitute? He’s my fucking boyfriend.”

Ian watched as the lead officer stepped closer, his face morphing to disgust. “You were operating a motorized vehicle while receiving a sexual favor.”

“We weren’t doing anything,” Ian cut in. “I just leaned over to kiss him. We were at a red light.”

“Fucking faggots,” the second officer mumbled.

“What you fucking say?” Mickey snapped, whirling around to face the other cop.

“Mickey, let it go!” Ian pleaded but the officer beside him reached out to grab his arm, pulling him out of the way.

“Get your fucking hands off him!” Mickey shouted, rushing around the car.

Before he could reach their side, the lead officer grabbed him from behind, pinning him roughly to the hood of the car.

“Spread your legs and keep your face down,” he snarled, bending over to speak in Mickey’s ear. “Bet that’s what you like, isn’t it? Spreading your legs like some cheap faggot whore.”

“Fucking asshole cops,” Mickey spat, groaning when his hands were pulled behind him for the handcuffs.

“What did you say to me?” the officer snapped, yanking Mickey back to his feet with a sharp tug.

“I called you a fucking asshole cop!” Mickey spat the words a second time.

“Mickey, stop!” Ian pleaded, trying to break free from the hold on his arm but the officer at his side was twice his size. “He didn’t do anything wrong. _We_ didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Another word out of you and you’ll be next!” The officer pointed towards Ian before turning back. “Solicitation of a sexual act, resisting arrest. Want to add obstruction to the list?”

Mickey swallowed every instinct he had to knock the officer down. Locking eyes with Ian, the hurt and worry he saw staring back was enough to make him stop.

“That’s what I thought,” the officer snorted. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

“Mickey,” Ian started, ignoring as the officer finished reciting the Miranda rights.

“Just keep your mouth shut, Gallagher,” Mickey snapped, lifting his eyes in challenge to the cop holding onto his arm. “You gonna arrest me or not?”

Tugging him hard, the officer pushed Mickey towards his vehicle, opening the rear door and forcing him into the backseat with a rough shove.

“You can’t just fucking arrest him!” Ian shouted, breaking free from the hold on his arm and rushing towards the window.

Ready to pick a fight, he caught Mickey’s eyes through the glass and the defeated look staring him back was enough to make him bite his tongue. Before he could mount another protest, the officers climbed back inside their car and pulled off into traffic, disappearing down the road.

“Fuck!” Ian shouted, looking up to see the small crowd around him for the first time. “You all fucking see that?”

Ignoring the mumbled replies, he grabbed his phone and called the only person he knew that could help.


	10. TEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some slurs used in this chapter.  
> Going to Chicago tomorrow. Looks like I missed all the filming! Oh well, still gonna see the famous Gallagher house and take pics :)

*****

Yanking him by his cuffed hands, the officers pushed Mickey through the doors, leading him down a back hallway towards the holding cells. Roughly pinning him to the wall, they waited while the holding Sergeant finished skimming through his file.

“I’ll be damned,” the Sergeant chuckled as he glanced up from his screen. “Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich. You’ve got a pretty long record for someone your age.”

“You gonna give me my phone call?” Mickey snapped, pushing forward from the wall.

“In and out of juvie, sentenced to prison, escaped prison and then turned himself in to the Feds,” the Sergeant read before looking up. “Just released a few weeks ago and you’re already back. Do I want to know the charge?”

“Solicitation of a Sexual Act,” the arresting officer answered.

“Fuck you,” Mickey spat. “I wasn’t doing shit but driving with my boyfriend.”

“We got ourselves a fucking fairy,” the Sergeant smirked. “You make a clean arrest?”

When the officer gave a firm nod, the Sergeant turned back towards Mickey with a tilt of his chin.

“Let’s get you booked and processed. Cuffs off.”

The officer yanked him forward, ignoring Mickey’s wince when the metal dug into his skin. When the handcuffs were finally off, they stepped back with matching glares.

"Stand with your back against the wall for the mug shot,” the Sergeant directed.

Mickey hesitated, staring between the three men before reluctantly giving in. Moving towards the wall, he stared into the camera with dead eyes as the Sergeant used the flash in his face. Fingerprints were last before they dragged him towards the holding cells at the end of the building.

“Sleep tight, Princess,” the officer winked as the gates locked behind him.

Slamming his fist against the bars, Mickey moved towards the furthest wall and fell down onto the bench.

“You got a fucking problem?” he spat, eyes wide on the two other prisoners beside him.

The men held their hands up in defense and moved away, allowing him the space he needed to calm his rage. Pressing his head back against the wall, he lifted his legs in the air, knees pointed upwards to hide his hands. With the other prisoners keeping their distance, he uncurled his fist and stared at the ring wrapped around his finger. Two hours ago, he and Ian had been elated. Despite his initial reaction, all he had ever wanted was to call Ian his and have Ian do the same. His love for the other man had never left him, the single constant of his turbulent existence. In the violent darkness that had always surrounded him, loving Ian had been his salvation. Everything they had been through, all the anger, heartache, separation and pain, they had finally reunited and vowed to never leave each other again. Everything had been perfect and for a few quiet moments, Mickey had believed they’d finally made it. As his gaze slowly lowered, a part of him he thought had healed long ago slowly broke again.

  
********  
  


Bursting through the precinct doors an hour later, Joe rushed towards the front counter with Ian hot on his side.

“Where’s the fire?” the officer greeting them asked with a laugh. “Hey Joe, haven’t seen you for a while. How’s it going?”

“Bad night, Benny. Two of your cops got one of my guys locked up.”

“Name?”

“Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich,” Ian answered, keeping his clenched fists hidden deep inside his pockets.

“Says he was booked an hour ago. Charges include solicitation of a sexual act and resisting arrest.”

“It’s bullshit, Benny. Get the Holding Sergeant out here,” Joe said before turning towards Ian. “I’ll get this sorted out. He’ll be fine.”

“It’s not the arrest I’m worried about,” Ian sighed. “They got him on bogus charges because they’re homophobic fucks!”

“I know that,” Joe nodded. “We’ll get it fixed.”

“What can I do for you?” a voice interrupted.

Spinning around, they focused on the Holding Sergeant standing with his back against the desk, arms crossed at his chest.

“You booked someone tonight, Mickey Milkovich. Charges were unsubstantiated,” Joe began.

“You say that every time we book one of your guys,” the Sergeant smirked. “He did the crime, he pays the time.”

“Dan,” Joe cut him off, taking a step forward. “I’m telling you that this was bullshit. Your officers arrested him because he’s gay.”

The Sergeant pushed off from the desk, the humor draining from his face. “Just what the fuck are you implying?”

“Exactly what I said,” Joe exclaimed. “He was driving with his boyfriend, they kissed behind a red light, your officers pulled them over and arrested him for no other reason.”

“You listen here, Joe. You’ve got zero weight in this precinct. My officers made a good arrest and the charges stand. Your guy will spend the night in holding and go before a judge tomorrow morning,” Dan spat. “Tell me something, is he a two time loser or three? Rap sheet’s so long, I got mixed up.”

Sensing Ian’s explosion, Joe reached back and grabbed his arm before he could comment.

“We could clear this all up right now,” he suggested, facing forward again. “Just check the dash camera on the squad. If your officers are right, we’ll eat our words and leave.”

Scoffing, the Sergeant glanced towards Benny who was watching them in silence. “Which squad are Miller and Davis on?”

“Number 645.”

“That’s too bad. That one’s been in need of maintenance since a traffic accident a couple weeks back. The dash camera doesn’t operate.”

“I bet it doesn’t,” Joe smiled. “Guess we’ll just have to wait until the morning.”

“Bench is over there,” Dan pointed to the wall behind them. “Get comfy. It’s gonna be a long night.”

With a final wink, the Sergeant disappeared down the corridor. Rubbing his face in frustration, Ian looked up at Joe with helpless eyes.

“We can’t let him stay here all night.”

“Not much I can do about that right now,” Joe replied. “I know someone, a Detective. He’s got a good connection with headquarters. I’ll give him a call in the morning.”

“What do we do until then?” Ian asked.

Joe pointed to the bench and made his way over. With his shoulders dropping in exhaustion, Ian followed and took the spot beside him. They stared off at the wall, neither speaking, as the minutes ticked by in silence.  
  


********  
  
  
When the morning shift eventually started, Ian tore his gaze away and turned to see Joe walking towards him. The older man rubbed the tiredness from his own face and glanced over at Ian’s bloodshot eyes.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“He’s not sleeping in there. Neither can I,” Ian shrugged. “Can we call your friend now?”

“I already did a while ago. You were zoned out. He’s gonna do some due diligence before coming in to meet us. He should be here soon.”

Ian nodded faintly and leaned his head back against the wall, allowing his eyes to slip shut. He thought back to the fight and the moment Mickey had won. The look of total jubilation on Mickey’s face had made Ian’s heart swell. When he had kissed him in the middle of the ring in front of strangers, it had felt as if all the pain had been worth it. Their moment of happiness, getting engaged, had lasted a single hour before reality had come crashing in.

Hearing his name called, he looked up and quickly walked over, shaking hands with a man standing next to Joe dressed in a suit, shield hanging loosely around his neck.

“This is Detective Adams. He’s a good friend of mine,” Joe introduced.

“Can you get him out?” Ian asked.

“The Sergeant is due back on shift any second now. Let me see what I can do,” the Detective nodded.

Before Ian could comment, the front doors burst open and Dan walked through, biting into a pastry when his eyes fell over them. A smirk curved his mouth until he noticed Adams standing at their side.

“Detective, what are you doing here?” he asked, wiping the crumbs from his face.

“Joe told me what happened. Did you check the dash cameras, Dan? Wait, you said the car was in need of maintenance and that the camera was not functioning, is that correct?”

The Sergeant came to answer but the Detective swiftly cut him off.

“Funny, because I checked the logs at service and repair before coming in and squad 645 has no paperwork listing it for maintenance.”

Dan opened his mouth to stumble through an explanation, but the Detective cut him off again.

“Obviously, such a glaring mistake wouldn’t be one that you overlooked on purpose so I had the guys pull all the feed from the last twenty four hours and we finished sorting through it a few minutes ago. I gotta tell you, Dan, it looks pretty bad.”

The Sergeant cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “They told me it was a clean arrest. Solicitation of a sexual act and resisting arrest.”

“That’s right but do you wanna know what I saw when I watched the feed?” the Detective asked, leaning forward. “I saw your officers parked on the side of the road, watching Mr. Milkovich and his boyfriend as they left the empty dugouts on South Harbor Drive. The officers followed from behind, watched as they kissed at a red light and pulled them to a stop.”

Ian tore his gaze away to glare at the Sergeant. “They were following us?”

“You can’t mistake the slurs or the unnecessary force they used when arresting," the Detective added. "Joe may not have any weight in this precinct but I do. I’m scheduled to meet with the Deputy Chief for lunch this afternoon. I believe the Mayor and the Chief of Police are campaigning to eradicate bigotry and intolerance so that false arrests, mistaken identities and tragic stops don’t ever happen again. Most of us are proud to be a cop in Chicago but there’s always gonna be bad apples in the bunch like your officers.”

The men stared at one another for a meaningful moment before Adams smiled.

“So tell me something, Dan. Is this the hill you want to die on?”

The Sergeant swallowed hard as he turned his focus back to Joe. “I guess you do have a lot of friends, don’t you?”

“Get Mr. Milkovich out of holding, write up your report elaborating on the false arrest and then I’ll oversee and sign it myself,” the Detective explained. “Then you and I are going to have a long chat with the Captain. Make sure Miller and Davis are present.”

Hesitating for another moment, the Sergeant turned on his heel and disappeared.

“I don’t know what to say,” Ian started. “Is that it? Is he free? How do I thank you guys?”

“You can thank Joe,” Adams smiled. “I’ve seen him get this invested in his parolee maybe once or twice before. He must really see something in your guy.”

Before Ian could thank them a second time, his eyes caught sight of Mickey walking down the hallway with Dan by his side. The Detective shook Joe’s hand and gave Ian a quick nod before leading the Sergeant away.

“Mick,” Ian said, reaching out to touch him.

Rather than welcoming the touch, Mickey recoiled instead. Swallowing his sudden hurt at the flinch, Ian lowered his gaze as Joe stepped between them.

“Let’s talk outside,” he suggested, leading them towards his truck. 

“Do I gotta go to court?” Mickey finally asked.

“No, that was Detective Adams. He’s a good friend of mine. He’ll sort that out. Don’t worry about it.”

Mickey stared between them and whispered a quick thanks before climbing into the backseat, shutting the door behind him. The drive through town was quiet, the radio switched off as none could bring themselves to discuss what had happened. When Joe pulled up outside their apartment minutes later, he turned back towards Mickey with a sigh.

“Don’t let this get to you,” he said and quickly backtracked at Mickey’s answering glare. “It’s not a perfect world, not a perfect system. Racists, homophobes, narrow-minded people exist no matter how much we try to make them see differently. What happened to you last night never should have happened but it did. There’s no changing that but don’t let it get in the way of where and who you are right now.”

“So forget it fucking happened?” Mickey asked, staring through his window. “You think I can fucking do that, knowing all that past shit?”

Ian slowly closed his eyes, the pain inside his heart growing as he listened to the words.

“You've got two choices. Either you can go round up your cousins, pay those cops a visit and get thrown back in jail on charges I won’t be able to get tossed away or you can let it go and move past this,” Joe offered. “You need to let this go, Mickey. Let it go because if you don’t, _they_ win.”

Without glancing back, Mickey climbed out of the car and stormed inside the building. Giving Joe a quick nod in thanks, Ian quickly rushed to follow. When he walked inside their apartment minutes later, Mickey was standing with his back towards the door. Tossing his jacket on the couch, Ian slowly closed the distance between them. His hands ached to reach out and pull Mickey towards him but he listened to his gut and held back.

“Talk to me,” he said instead. “What’s going through your head?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Mickey said without turning around.

“Baby, please, just talk to me,” Ian pleaded.

“Don’t fucking call me that!” Mickey snapped.

Ian’s heart broke at the shattering words but waited until Mickey finally whirled around. They stared at one another for several beats, neither sure of what to say. When the quiet stretched on for too long, Ian lowered his gaze and froze.

“You took the ring off.”

Glancing down, Mickey stared at his naked finger before reaching inside his pocket to remove the band.

“Are you giving it back?” Ian stuttered.

When he made no effort to answer, Ian’s shoulders dropped and he slowly lifted the ring back into his own hand.

“I need a fucking drink,” Mickey muttered, shoulders vibrating from his barely muted anger.

“Joe was right, Mick. What happened should never have fucking happened but you can’t…”

“Can’t what?” Mickey shouted, his anger bursting through. “I can’t get pissed off? I can’t go back there and beat their fucking faces into the ground?”

“I’m pissed off too! I wanna beat their asses as much as you but all that’s gonna do is get you thrown back in prison!”

“Being gay’s enough for that to fucking happen!” Mickey snapped. “We were _driving_ , Ian. You weren’t giving me a fucking blow job! We were driving!”

“I know,” Ian whispered, running a hand across his face. “Fuck, I know.”

“We weren’t fucking doing anything,” Mickey’s voice finally cracked. “And you wanna get married? We living in some fantasy life I don’t know about because last night was fucking reality!”

“Mick, not everyone is like that,” Ian pleaded. 

“Wake the fuck up, Ian. Look at where we fucking live!”

“Then we’ll go!” Ian shouted. “We’ll save up money and go somewhere else.”

“What about your family? My kid? The Center? Boxing? The fact that we can’t even cross the fucking state line? We just gonna forget all that?”

“Fuck, Mickey, I don’t know!” Ian growled. “But you’re looking at me right now like you want out.”

A moment of silence passed before Mickey finally answered. “Did I fucking say that?”

“You giving back the ring says that!” Ian exclaimed.

They breathed through the tense moment, neither backing down until Mickey broke their gaze and stepped back.

“I need a drink,” he repeated, grabbing the keys out of Ian’s hand and storming outside without a backwards glance.

Falling down on the couch, Ian buried his face in his hands, ring pinched between his fingers as a painful reminder of everything that had happened.

Climbing into their car downstairs, Mickey sat still for a brief second before he pulled his fist back and started punching the steering wheel over and over again. When his arm was finally numb and his anger had drained, he sat collapsed against his seat and closed his eyes, a pain he easily recognized quickly filling him.

  
********  
  


Walking inside the Center an hour later, Ian’s hands were shaking as he made his way towards the courtyard out back. Sitting alone in the apartment had been too much, his mind going into overdrive with thoughts he couldn’t bear to think.

“Ian?”

Turning around, he watched as Nia’s smile fell from her face, instantly replaced by worry as she reached out to grab him.

“What’s going on with you? You’re shaking.”

“I just needed to get out of the apartment. Do you have a minute? Can we talk?”

“Yeah, of course,” she said, pointing towards the building as they walked back inside. “Can we talk in Molly’s office? She’ll be worried too.”

He nodded faintly as he followed her to the end of the hall. When Molly looked up from her computer, she dropped her hands from the keyboard and motioned towards the couch. Closing the door to give them privacy, Nia moved to sit beside him as Molly took the chair in front.

“What happened?” Molly asked.

Leaning back against the cushion, Ian took a deep breath to calm the tremble from his hands.

“He kissed me in front of everyone last night,” he started, his smile sad. “After the fight, when he won, he kissed me in front of everyone.”

“I remember,” Molly gave a gentle smile.

“You don’t know how big a deal that was for him, for us,” he said. “We left and I drove out to the dugouts on South Harbor. It’s our spot, has been since we were kids. It’s completely deserted.”

His colleagues stayed silent, allowing him the time he needed to collect his thoughts.

“I proposed to him,” Ian finally said, smiling at the happiness he saw in their eyes. “He freaked out at first but then he said yes. He said _yes_. A few years ago, I never would have thought that was possible for us.”

“This is all great news, Ian,” Nia cut in. “What happened?”

“We were driving back and these cops pulled us over.”

“No,” Molly whispered as realization dawned.

“They thought I was a prostitute, got rough and arrested Mickey on these bogus charges,” he continued. “I called his parole officer. He’s a good guy, actually gives a shit, you know? We went down to the precinct but they dicked us around. This morning, he had this Detective friend of his come by and they got Mickey released, charges dropped."

“Ian, that could have ended a lot worse,” Nia reminded.

“I know,” he nodded, his eyes glazing over. “But he gave the ring back and stormed out. Don’t know where he is.”

“Sweetie,” Nia said, pulling him against her chest. “He’s just emotional right now. Angry, pissed off, upset and he has every right to be. Just give him some time to get his head on straight.”

“No matter how hard we try, there’s always gonna be something,” Molly sighed. “That’s why we have this Center because things like this are too real and they happen too often.”

“But this place is not just for the kids,” Nia added. “We support each other too.”

Ian ran the back of his hand across his eyes and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Look, honey, today’s your day off. Go home and rest up,” Nia said. “What you guys went through last night is terrible and I’m sorry that it happened. It’s happened to me and my wife too. But we have to keep doing what we do. Advocating for love and helping those who need to be reminded that cruelty and racism, abuse and homophobia have no place in this world.”

“She said it better than I would have,” Molly added, her words lightening the mood between them. “Go home, Ian. He’ll come back. Just give him some time.”

  
********  
  


“Mickey,” Kevin greeted, moving towards him at the end of the bar. “How’s it going, man? You doing alright?”

Looking up from his half empty glass, it took a moment for his eyes to focus. “What do you want?”

“You okay?” Kevin repeated. “You’ve been here for hours, man. Just sitting here on your own. I called you a bunch of times but I don’t think you heard me.”

“I’m fine,” he said, lifting his glass to finish his drink.

“Mick, we’re close, right?” Kevin asked, ignoring the glare he received in reply. “Wanna talk about what happened? You were living on cloud nine last night.”

“Got a dose of fucking reality,” he replied. “Do me a favor and fuck off, man. I wanna be alone right now.”

Kevin hesitated until a customer got his attention at the other end of the bar. Staring at his empty glass, Mickey leaned forward on his elbows just as the doors burst open up front, a rowdy laughter sounding over the rest of the noise in the bar.

“Well fucking well,” a voice said from behind him. “Look who it fucking is.”

Not placing the voice, Mickey slowly turned around, quickly recognizing the three faces as the guys from the ring last night.

“If it ain’t the boxing champ,” the lead guy taunted, taking a step closer. “Didn’t know they allowed fucking faggots in the big leagues.”

His friends laughed at the words but all Mickey saw was red. Kevin made a slow approach, hands lifted up to diffuse the tense standoff but Mickey rose from his stool before he could comment.

“This really isn’t the fucking day to be doing this.”

“You get into a fight with your boyfriend?” the first guy chuckled. “He not fucking you hard enough?”

Before the others could chime in, Mickey pulled his arm back and threw a hard fist, sending the guy harshly to the ground. His friends jumped in to join but Mickey moved faster, kicking one in the crotch and pushing the third face first against the bar. Kevin started shouting as the crowd made space but Mickey ignored the voices and fell to his knees in front of the main man. Grabbing his collar, he pulled his arm back and punched with abandon, one hit after another. The shouted words around him were lost to his ears until he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his upper body. He struggled to pull away but Kevin held on tighter.

“It’s over, Mickey. It’s over, they’re done.”

Breathing heavily, Mickey stared down at the three fallen men as realization dawned. Stumbling backwards, he looked up at Kevin in silence, eyes lost and afraid.

“Just get out of here,” Kevin pointed to the door. “No one’s gonna rat you out. I’ll make sure these fuckers know that.”

Blinking through his wet eyes, Mickey tripped his way towards the door and burst outside. When he climbed back in his car, he shot away from the curb and drove a mile before the shake in his hands made him pull off to the side. Staring down at his bloody knuckles, he took one breath after another, calming his nerves as his anger slowly faded. A sudden honk yanked him back to the present. Finally looking up, his eyes squinted into focus at a spot across the street. Recognizing the familiar face, he slowly made his way to the other side, watching as an older man pressed a teenaged boy against a shadowed wall of a dark alley.

“Get the fuck out of here!” he growled, waiting until the man had turned around before stepping closer. “Need me to fucking ask you again? Get the fuck out!”

The man’s eyes trailed low to the blood on Mickey’s knuckles and he quickly stumbled away down the sidewalk.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Turning back around, his brows lifted as he stared down into Ben’s eyes.

“You’re the kid from the Center Ian works at. Ben?”

“Yeah, who the fuck are you?”

“Mickey,” he shot back. “You watched me fight last night. You know who the fuck I am.”

“Fine, I know who you are. What the fuck do you want?” Ben snapped. “You just cost me fifty bucks!”

“That guy was gonna pay you fifty bucks for what? Sucking him down? I did you a fucking favor.”

“I don’t need your fucking help, asshole!”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Mickey scoffed. “And they say I got the biggest fucking attitude in the South Side.”

“Go to hell,” Ben whispered, turning around to follow the same path the man had taken.

“Hey, you wanna run after fifty bucks, let that old pervert rub one off on you? Be my fucking guest. I ain’t your keeper,” he replied. “You wanna grab a bite to eat instead of chasing after old man balls, get in the fucking car.”

Without waiting for an answer, Mickey turned around and walked back across the street. Ben watched him leave before swallowing his response and following. They glanced at one another briefly before Mickey started driving. Pulling into the parking of an all night diner, they walked in side by side. Grabbing a booth at the end, they gave their orders and sat back.

“You gonna give me some inspirational speech or something?” Ben snorted. “Tell me shit won’t always be this way?”

“I look like a motivational speaker to you?” Mickey replied, his brow lifting high.

“Then why’d you bring me here?”

“Been a bad fucking day and old perverts like your friend piss me the fuck off,” Mickey replied, watching as the waitress brought their orders.

“Whatever,” Ben muttered, digging into his pancakes. “Tired of people telling me things will get better, that time will heal all wounds and a bunch of other crap about shit they know nothing about.”

Mickey watched him eat in silence before lowering his coffee and holding up his hands. “See the blood? I got into a fight right before I saw you. Me against three douchebags. Two dropped easy but the third guy, I fucking pounded him.”

“Why?” Ben asked quietly.

“They pissed me off,” he shrugged. “Kid, I don’t know you. I don’t know how shitty your family is. I don’t know if they use you, abuse or whatever the fuck else.”

“I don’t need to tell you anything,” Ben muttered.

“Not here to lend my shoulder for you to fucking cry on,” Mickey said before sighing. “You think your life sucks? So did mine. Maybe yours sucks more, maybe mine did. But the house I grew up in, my fucking Father, none of that shit was good.”

"Yeah, I bet," Ben rolled his eyes and glanced up, but the look on Mickey's face made him swallow his comment. “Your Dad hit you?” 

“Most my fucking life,” Mickey leaned his head back. “It was always something, you know. He’d get pissed at something, drunk like fucking always and take all that shit out on me. My piece of shit older brothers were in and out of the house but me and my sister, we were always in his fucking path.”

He scoffed as his mind moved back to his childhood, his anger slowly rising.

“Back then, Ian and me, we weren’t _out_ ,” he said and ran a hand through is hair. “I was fucking terrified of the old man, so fucking worried about what he would do to me if he found out, what he’d do to _Ian_. Everything stayed a fucking secret until one day, the fucker walked in on us.”

“He beat you?” Ben asked quietly.

“Fucking beat us both,” Mickey nodded, his eyes looking off into the distance as the memory of that day came flooding back. “Held a fucking gun to Ian’s head and called a prostitute over to fuck the gay out of me.”

“Fuck,” Ben whispered, looking down.

“I was sitting there on the couch, bleeding and this woman came in, got naked, sat herself down on my fucking lap,” he said, not realizing the wetness that was filling his own eyes. “Couldn’t look away from Ian while she was…”

Clearing his throat, he sat up in his seat and let the emotion drain from his face.

“Worst fucking day of my life.”

“I’m…,” Ben started, his voice catching on the words. “I’m sorry.”

Mickey finally looked down, focusing on the teenager sitting across him. “I don’t think about that day too much. Messes with my head and shit, you know? She got pregnant and that fucking son of a bitch made me marry her. I was what, fucking eighteen? Couldn’t even look at my own kid for the longest fucking time.”

He licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair, using the moment to get a hold of himself. Looking up, he saw Ben watching him quietly, his earlier hostility replaced by a sadness that Mickey easily recognized.

“Look, shit happens and a lot of shit happened to me. A lot of it was survival, me doing what I had to do to keep myself from fucking drowning and the rest of it was because I came up in really shitty house,” he said. “I don’t know you. Not gonna tell you what the fuck to do with your life.”

Ben sniffled quietly and looked away.

“But whatever you’re feeling, shame, guilt or whatever the fuck, you ain’t gonna find the fucking answers in some dark alley with some old dude who should have his dick chopped off,” Mickey scoffed. “Ian’s a good guy. When he’s not being a dumbass, he’s the best fucking guy because he gives a shit. I mean, shit, he’s made a fuck tonne of mistakes and I’m the fucking same but where I am, so much of that is because he fucking cared back then.”

Running a hand across his eyes, Ben wiped his tears but stayed quiet.

“What are you, fifteen? Sixteen? I was running guns when I was twelve. Ran a fucking prostitution ring when I was eighteen,” he said, watching as Ben's shocked eyes widened. “Been in and out of juvie, just got out of fucking prison a few weeks back. That shit is all hard core, kid. Not saying I’m fucking proud but it was shit I had to do to survive. Fucking life in the South Side. You want something better? Let Ian and that Center help.”

Ben scrubbed his eyes before leaning back with a tired smile.

“You’re not too much of an asshole.”

“That supposed to be a fucking compliment?”

Ben’s smile widened as he sat forward, his hands tangling together over the table. “Thanks.”

Feeling discomfort by the deep emotion behind the single word, Mickey cleared his throat again and nodded.

“You got two choices, kid. You can fuck up whatever shitty life you already have, get locked up or high on fucking drugs. That’s what fucking old dudes in back alleys will get you,” Mickey said without batting an eye. “Or you can take all that shit, lift your fucking hands and give the biggest Fuck You to everyone.”

“That’s an option?” Ben chuckled.

"Been doing it for years. Fucking awesome."

Ben shook his head and looked away but couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Mickey watched him for a moment longer before his foul mood from before returned.

“After the fight yesterday, Gallagher fucking proposed,” he snorted as Ben’s eyes shot back to his face. “Then these cops pulled us over, cuffed me on some bogus fucking charges and locked me up, all cause Ian fucking kissed me at a red light.”

“They arrested you because you’re gay?” Ben’s voice was quiet.

“Yeah,” Mickey nodded absently. “Ian and my parole officer got me out this morning but it left it’s fucking mark, you know? Thought I was past all that shit and then something fucks it all up again.”

Ben lowered his eyes to Mickey’s hand, seeing the absence of a ring.

“Got into a fight with Ian, gave the ring back,” he sighed. “Then I spent the entire fucking day getting drunk, beat those three fuckers at the bar and then I saw you with that old douchebag.”

Ben swallowed hard but didn't comment.

“Fucking reminded me of…,” Mickey started but his sentence trailed off. “I don’t wanna go back to jail. I ain’t that same fucked up, scared kid I was ten fucking year ago. Gallagher deserves better. My kid deserves better. I fucking deserve better than that.”

“Shit,” Ben said. “I thought my life was fucked up.”

“So what do you wanna do?" Mickey asked, leaning back. "Pimp yourself out, get hooked on drugs, go to jail or get a better fucking life?”

“Like that’s a fucking hard choice,” Ben muttered.

“Then get a fucking job. Work at a grocery store, rake leave, work at a gym or fucking anywhere,” Mickey suggested. 

“No one's gonna hire me.”

“You saw the gym where I fought? The dude who owns it, Clyde, he's pretty fucking decent."

Ben gave a small nod before lifting a fork full of cold pancakes to his mouth. Mickey watched him from across the booth, silence taking over. Tilting his gaze out the window, he stared out at the dark night, sadness washing over him as he felt the emptiness around his finger where the ring had been.

  
********  
  


Walking inside the apartment an hour later, Mickey locked the door and turned around. Darkness filled the space, a dim lamp lighting the hallway past the kitchen. His eyes quickly fell on Ian curled up on the couch, sleeping with his hands tangled under his chin. The pain inside his heart slowly lifted as he made his way over. Watching him for a quiet moment, he reached down and ran a gentle hand through Ian’s hair, pulling back when his boyfriend's eyes burst open.

“Mick?” Ian whispered, clearing his throat and sitting up. “What time is it?”

“Late,” he said quietly. “Why you sleeping out here?”

“Don’t wanna sleep in bed without you.”

Mickey’s heartbeat ticked faster as he gave a small smile. “Gonna shower.”

Moving towards the bathroom, he slipped inside and switched the shower on to scalding hot. With tired hands, he pulled his clothes from his body, tossing them in a pile behind the door before slipping under the heated spray. The second the water reached his muscles, the tenseness he’d been carrying began to melt away. He was washing shampoo from his hair when the door quietly opened and Ian leaned against the bathroom sink. Neither spoke as Mickey finished rinsing. Once the shower was switched off, Ian pulled the curtain back and pushed a towel towards him before making his way outside. Quickly drying the dampness from his body, Mickey tied the towel at his waist and moved to follow, finding Ian standing with his back leaned against the dresser in their bedroom.

“Where’d you go today?” he finally asked and waited until Mickey had looked up before speaking again. “Your knuckles were all bruised up.”

“Went to the Alibi,” Mickey said, standing opposite him with a few feet of space between. “Just sat there, drinking. Those fuckers from the gym showed up, got on my nerves. Kicked their asses. Kevin pulled me off.”

Ian nodded as he took in the words, trying his best to keep his emotions at bay.

“Ian,” Mickey started.

Looking up, Ian saw the pained regret in Mickey’s eyes and felt the tense clutching in his own heart fade away. Like a dam had finally broken, he quickly closed the distance and pulled Mickey against his chest, heart swelling when he felt his boyfriend's arms wrap around him.

“You fucking scared me,” he muttered, his lips finding his favorite spot behind Mickey's ear and leaving a hard kiss.

“Ask me again.”

The words were whispered but Ian heard them. Leaning back, he looked into Mickey’s eyes and saw nothing but love shining back.

“Ask me again,” Mickey repeated.

With shaky hands, Ian reached under his sweater and pulled his chain forward, unlocking the end to pull the ring off. They stared at the platinum band for a long moment until their eyes lifted to lock each other in.

“I love you," Ian started. "Last night, what happened, I hate it so fucking much, Mick. Fuck, we've been through hell and back but we can't let that shit break us. I love you and I wanna be your husband. Nothing else fucking matters."

Licking his lips, he reached down to press the ring to the tip of Mickey's finger.

“Marry me?"

“Yeah, I’ll fucking marry you,” Mickey breathed, reaching to take Ian’s face in his hands.

The kiss was hard, teeth colliding as their tongues tasted the sweetness of each other’s mouths. Neither could bring themselves to separate, the kiss healing the wounds between them. Pulling back for air, Ian slipped the ring on Mickey’s finger and pressed a kiss over it.

“It ain’t ever coming off,” Mickey said, his voice breaking at the end.

“Never coming off,” Ian repeated, the smile on his face growing.

“Remind me,” Mickey mumbled, dragging their lips back together again. “Remind me why it’s fucking worth it.”

Not needing further prompting, Ian’s fingers slid towards the towel and loosened the knot, letting it pool at their feet. His hands moved around Mickey’s body, his touches gentle, unhurried. When he felt Mickey’s fingers slip between his hair and grip the strands, he groaned and pushed them backwards to the bed. Sinking down onto the mattress, Ian covered Mickey’s body with his own, hands roaming, feeling every inch he could reach.

“Get your fucking clothes off,” Mickey muttered, panting as they pulled back.

Staring down at the bruised lips, Ian felt another weight inside his heart give away. “I love you.”

Mickey’s lashes fluttered as he finally smiled. “Love you too, Gallagher.”

When he lowered down and crashed their lips, bodies molding together, the panic Ian had felt finally began to dissipate. Being in each other’s arms, Ian vowed to burn the world over to keep the love between them safe. Fuck anyone that tried to break them. It was him and Mick, always. 


	11. ELEVEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GALLAVICH IS BAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!!!!

*****

Opening his eyes, Ian blinked against the morning light as the sensation slowly crept into his arms. He was pressed against Mickey’s back, holding him tight to his own chest, their hands twined together over the covers. Smiling at their closeness when they slept, he leaned his face towards Mickey’s hair and breathed the scent he’d always loved. It was the scent of home and love, the smell of his boyfriend, his lover, his best friend and fiancé, all rolled into one.

Pulling his left hand free, he trailed his fingers down Mickey’s arm, his touch gentle as it moved. The soft moan Mickey made as he slowly woke made Ian’s heartbeat tick faster. Lowering his head, Ian pressed one kiss after another to the warm skin as his hand slipped under the sheets to grip Mickey tight.

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey groaned, pressing back against Ian’s chest.

“Look at me,” Ian whispered, lifting his head so Mickey could twist his own on the pillow.

Their eyes met as Ian brought their lips together, the kiss moving in tune with his hand. Pulling his own hands free, Mickey buried his fingers into Ian’s hair, nails blunt against his scalp, the touch making Ian moan inside his mouth. With a quick break for air, Ian rolled Mickey onto his back and lowered his own body down. Before Mickey could question the position, he pressed himself close and slid inside, the breach making Mickey arch his back as a broken moan fell from his lips. Instead of hard and fast like they always did, Ian pulled out before sliding back in, slow and gentle.

“Fuck me,” Mickey grumbled but his hands moved against his own words, fingers trailing across Ian’s shoulders to lock behind his neck.

Lowering his face to the neck he ached to claim, Ian bit into Mickey’s skin and quickly smoothed the bruise over. Their bodies moved together slowly, in and out, making love in the quiet morning light. Lifting onto his elbows, Ian stared down at the face that had filled his mind since he was young. Their eyes quickly locked, their breathless pants silent as Ian reached down to lift Mickey’s legs. A look of worry shot through Mickey’s eyes at the vulnerable position and Ian held still, giving him the time he needed to sort his feelings out. When the fear slowly disappeared from Mickey’s eyes, Ian helped him lock his legs around his waist before picking up where he had left off. Their lips met in he middle as their chests pressed close, hearts beating together.

“I love you,” Ian blurted, watching as Mickey’s eyes grew soft.

Instead of answering, Mickey brought Ian’s face back down and slid their lips together, tongues tasting the sweetness in each other’s mouths. In and out, their bodies moved, the sheets scrunched around them. Breaking away from the kiss, Ian pressed his lips against every stretch of skin he could find. Closing his mouth over Mickey’s nub, he let his tongue roll around the sensitive spot as Mickey closed his eyes and groaned, hands tightening in the ginger locks. When his mouth moved to the other side, Mickey yanked him back up and kissed him hard. Ian kept his thrusts slow and deep, one after another, sliding into the warmth that felt like home as the heat between them began to rise. Pulling their mouths away to press kisses onto each other’s bodies, Ian thrusted over and over. With a final slide that made their toes curl, Ian bit into the sweaty collarbone and Mickey came with a muted cry. Spilling between their bodies, he tilted his head to leave a kiss to Ian's temple, the gentle touch sending Ian over the edge. As their breathing slowly calmed, Ian pressed another kiss over Mickey's heart and lowered his head to the warm chest. When Mickey’s shaky arms circled around him, holding him close, Ian gripped even tighter.

“You done clinging to me?” Mickey snorted, letting humor fill the silence.

Instead of answering with a jab, Ian lifted onto his elbows and gazed down. His hands moved to Mickey’s face, fingers gentle as they tenderly brushed the sweaty hair from his brow.

“We never do it like that,” he started, watching as realization dawned in Mickey’s eyes.

Slowly lowering his legs, Mickey gave a small smile and crawled out from under Ian’s body. Rubbing his face from a mixture of nerves and exhaustion, he looked back over his shoulder.

“Gonna shower,” he said and disappeared down the hall.

The door closed quietly behind him and Ian fell back onto the bed with a sigh. Their sex life had always been incredibly hot. Back when they had been younger, they had fucked every chance they had. As their emotions had slowly seeped in, their time together had grown longer. No more did they fuck and say goodbye. They lingered together after, bodies and hearts longing to stay close. Through all their time together and apart, their ache for one another had never wavered but Ian could count on one hand the amount of times they had slept together face to face. Once had been when Frank had caught them all those years before, another had been the night Mickey had come out to his Father and the world at the Alibi. The third had been their first night reuniting in prison, too overwhelmed to question it at the time. Then came last night and now that morning. The fear in Mickey’s eyes had still been present, lingering in the background, but he had given himself over to Ian at his most vulnerable last night. Doing it again the same way in the morning had signalled a shift between them. The realization made Ian’s heart swell.

“You still in bed?” Mickey snorted, drying his hair with a towel as he walked back inside the bedroom dressed for the day. “Get the fuck up, man. You gotta drive me to the gym before your shift.”

Smiling, Ian threw the covers aside and walked over, wrapping Mickey up in his arms from behind.

“The fuck, Gallagher?” Mickey asked, his breath catching as he spoke.

“We’re engaged,” Ian said instead, lifting Mickey’s ringed hand to eye level. “Remember what you said last night. That ain’t ever coming off.”

“I’ll flush it down the fucking toilet if you make me late,” Mickey grumbled.

Ian dropped his hand and held him tighter, hooking his chin over Mickey’s shoulder. “Never, Mick. It’s never coming off.”

“Alright, already. Fuck,” Mickey chuckled. “You gonna shower now so we can fucking go?”

Pressing a kiss to his favorite spot behind Mickey’s ear, Ian smiled as he sauntered towards the bathroom, door closing shut behind him. Waiting until the shower had switched on, Mickey slowly lowered himself back onto the bed. Rubbing his eyes, he let the breath out of his lungs as he stared down at the ring. The fear was still inside him, the anger and hate that followed but he wouldn’t let himself steer from the path he was on. As much as it still scared him sometimes, he loved Ian more than anything else in his life.

  
********  
  


“Hey, Mick!”

He could hear the voice calling his name but all Mickey saw was the punching bag. Throwing one jab after another, he poured all his anger and frustration onto the heavy bag, ignoring the exhaustion in his arms as he threw punch after punch.

“Mickey!” Antonne shouted, stepping into his frame and pulling the bag aside. “Kid, take a breath. You’ve been going at it for a damn hour.”

“I’m fine,” he panted, pulling his arm back to start again but Antonne was quicker and stepped in front.

“I’m telling you to take a break,” he repeated, quirking his brow.

Rolling his eyes at the command, Mickey ripped his gloves off and tossed them to the bench, reaching for his water to chug the liquid down. As he lowered the bottle, his eyes caught Clyde making his way over, gaze cautious as he approached.

“How you doing, Mick?” Clyde asked, leaning against the wall as Antonne moved beside him.

Glancing between the two, Mickey sighed and crossed his arms. “Guessing Joe told you?”

They hesitated briefly before nodding.

“What those cops did, I’m really sorry that it happened, Mick,” Clyde started. “Three months ago, our nephew got pulled over late at night by a couple cops. They arrested him because they thought the cell phone in his pocket was a gun.”

“Not saying all cops are assholes but shit like that happens more than it should,” Antonne added.

“Doesn’t fucking matter,” Mickey shrugged. “You think those two fuckhead cops are the worst assholes I ever met? You think them arresting me is the worst fucking thing’s that’s ever happened? Fuck them.”

“Mickey,” Clyde said, pushing off from the wall. “It’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to be upset. That never should have happened.”

“Well, it fucking did,” Mickey muttered, looking away.

The brothers glanced at one another before Clyde stepped forward. “Look, I wanted to let you know that the National Boxing Association approved you. You’re officially on the registry, kid.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you can get fucking paid when you win,” Clyde chuckled, pushing an envelope at his chest.

Lifting the lid, Mickey skimmed through the dozen bills inside and looked up.

“That’s your share of the winnings from the fight the other night,” Clyde explained. “Now that you’re official and people are asking around about you, you’re gonna have promoters reaching out.”

“Who the fuck are they?”

“They’re the ones that schedule boxing matches, collect money through ticket sales, contact networks for broadcast rights once you get in the big leagues and all that other shit,” Antonne replied.

“For now, we’re gonna do that for you to get your name out there, build you up but win a few more fights and the pros will come knocking,” Clyde added. “Each fight, there’s gonna be a purse you all agree on. That’s the percentage that you get after all the money comes in.”

“Why do I gotta get someone else? Why can’t I stick with you?” Mickey asked, looking between them.

“Mick, I’ll be your trainer as long as you want me,” Antonne said.

“And I’ll get the matches scheduled and do the promoting but soon enough, you’re gonna want to get the pros to take over,” Clyde added.

“I don’t fucking want anyone else,” Mickey shook his head. “You guys got my back.”

Clyde’s smile was genuine as he nodded. “If that’s how you want it right now, kid, we’re more than happy to stick with it. But we gotta draft some contracts up, get everything signed.”

“We really need to do that shit?”

“Mick, doing this protects you and us,” Clyde replied. “I like you, kid, but I don’t want any questions later on and I don’t want you to have any either.”

“Yeah, alright,” Mickey nodded, staring down at the envelope again. “Thanks for this.”

“You earned it,” Clyde smiled again. “I got a meeting later tonight. Close to getting you a second fight. If you keep winning and the money starts coming in bit by bit, you’re not gonna need another job. So stop cleaning and working here. Just focus on your training with Antonne.”

Mickey watched them for a moment before taking a step forward. “You need someone to take my place?”

  
********  
  


“Thanks, Ian,” the young girl gave a shy smile as she rushed across the courtyard towards the swings.

Watching her go, Ian’s smile softened as he thought of Franny. Rising to his feet, he turned around to see Ben making his way over, the usual hostility gone from his face.

“You got a minute?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ian nodded, motioning towards the empty bench.

They sat beside one another in silence, Ian leaning back to give the young boy the space he needed. He watched as Ben lifted his eyes to watch the younger kids around him.

“Your boyfriend’s a pretty cool guy.”

“Yeah, he is,” Ian chuckled. “Are you talking about the fight?”

“No,” Ben shook his head. “Saw him last night.”

Frowning at the words, Ian leaned forward on his elbows and turned his head towards the teen. “What are you talking about? When?”

“He saw me in the street with some guy,” Ben started, avoiding Ian’s quizzical eyes. “Took me to get some food.”

“He didn’t say anything,” Ian said quietly.

Ben hesitated for a few moments before swallowing hard. “I was with this old guy in an alley. He saw me, came over, told the guy to get lost and took me to get some food.”

“Then I’m glad he was there,” Ian said, the genuine worry in his voice making Ben glance over.

“He said a lot of fucked up stuff about himself. His Dad,” Ben spoke quietly as Ian’s eyes widened. “Made me think my fucking life ain’t that bad.”

"Terry fucking Milkovich is a real piece of shit,” Ian started. “But you can’t compare yourself with Mickey or with anyone else.”

Ben nodded absently. “He said you proposed.”

“Yeah, I did,” Ian smiled sadly. “He tell you about the cops?”

When Ben nodded again, Ian leaned back with a sigh.

“I was worried out of my fucking mind,” he said, staring off into the distance. “His parole officer had this detective friend and they got Mickey out but when we went home and he gave the ring back and stormed out, I was losing my fucking mind. A part of me thought that was it. That was the thing that would make Mickey walk away ‘cause it dredged up too much shit from his past. But he came home at the end of the night.”

He looked over to see Ben watching him with attention.

“You got no idea how hard that must have been for him,” he said sadly. “To go against all that pain and hate in his past, to fucking let all that shit go and come home to me and ask me to propose again. But he did because he’s not the same scared kid he was ten years ago. He’s the strongest person I know. No fucking question.”

Ben took a deep breath as he leaned back on the bench. “I hate my Dad.”

“I hate mine too,” Ian chuckled. “Mickey hates his. You’re not alone, Ben. All these kids around you, all these kids that come to this Center, they all have broken homes. All of us do. Mine’s been broken for years. Mickey’s is fucking broken beyond repair. But we do whatever the fuck we can because if we don’t, the abusers, the homophobes, the assholes we deal with every day, they’ll win. What Molly did when she opened this place is give kids a safe place to go to but you gotta want to be here, Ben.”

“I do,” came the whispered reply as Ben looked up with wet eyes. “Mickey told me to get a job. That it would fucking help. Told me to come by the gym and the owner, Clyde, would make something happen.”

“I think that’s great idea,” Ian nodded. “Are you still in school?”

“I fucking dropped out last year,” Ben scoffed.

“Then that’s the next step,” Ian replied. “Finding you a job and getting your GED. You know, Mick’s parole officer wants Mickey to get his GED too. Was a deal they made when he got Mickey the job over at Clyde’s and got him into boxing. Maybe that’s something the two of you could work on together?”

Ben stayed silent but the hopeful shine in his eyes gave him away.

“Maybe you could even help out here at the Center,” Ian added, smiling when the boy’s brow furrowed. “You’re one of the older kids and you’re funny when you wanna be. Lots of these kids would probably look up to you, want to hang out with you.”

“What the fuck do I got to say to these kids?” Ben snorted.

“You think Mickey sees himself as a role model?” Ian asked with a quiet laugh. “He’s fucking gold in my eyes even though he doesn’t see himself like that. But what he said stayed with you, didn’t it? Maybe you can do the same with the other kids.”

“You’re a real do-gooder, ain’t you?” Ben asked after a moment.

“Not in the fucking least,” Ian chuckled. “I got out of prison a few weeks back, used to dance half naked for money. I have made so many fucking mistakes in my life. Hurt everyone I cared about, hurt myself, hurt Mickey most of all. But I’m sitting here now because that’s not the life I want. I want to be better for my family, for Mickey and for me.”

Smiling, Ian thought back to the morning, the softness in their kisses.

“Mick said yes,” he spoke quietly. “He’s a trash-talking, bitch-slapping piece of South Side trash that I fell for when I was younger than you but he’s also got the biggest fucking heart and he’s the love of my fucking life. He said _yes_. I’m never taking that shit for granted again.”

“South Side Romeo and Juliet,” Ben said before frowning. “I guess Romeo and Romeo.”

“With a better fucking ending,” Ian added with a laugh. “So what do you think? GED, helping out here and getting a job. That sound like a good plan to you?”

When Ben’s smile widened, Ian felt his own smile erupt.

  
********  
  


Walking through the park, Mickey held onto the small parcel he was carrying, gripping it hard against his side. His eyes caught Svetlana sitting under the shade of trees as Yev played on the swings up front.

“Dad!” Yev shouted, jumping to the ground and rushing over.

He flew into Mickey’s space without care, gripping his legs as he squished his face against Mickey’s stomach. Smiling at the excited greeting, Mickey reached down to rub Yev’s head before pulling back and leading them towards the bench.

“You look mix of angry, happy and sad,” Svetlana remarked.

“Hello to you too,” he gave a mock grin before pushing the package to Yev.

Sitting down next to Svetlana, he watched as Yev tore into the wrapping. When Yev’s eyes widened as big as saucers, a happy smile spreading across his face, Mickey felt his anxiety slowly vanish. Yev tossed his arms around Mickey and hugged him close, giving his thanks to the remote controlled car. Without waiting for a response, he rushed towards the paved ground beside the swings to play with the shiny car.

“Nice to bring toy,” Svetlana said, her accent thick as she raised her brow. “Why so sentimental?”

“He’s my kid, ain’t he?” Mickey shot back.

“Did Ian fuck you really good today?”

“Fuck off,” Mickey grumbled but she quickly saw the blush on his cheeks and smiled.

Before she could open her mouth to comment, her eyes caught on a glitter across his finger. Looking down, she smirked at the ring and sat back.

“You are engaged?”

He quickly glanced at the ring and met her eyes. “So? You got something to say about it?”

“About fucking time,” she replied. “You and Carrot Boy, it was written in the mud.”

“The fuck you talking about?” he frowned.

“Written in the mud,” she repeated. “It is saying.”

“Written in the stars?” Mickey asked.

Svetlana thought for a moment before nodding. “Yes, written in the stars.”

“Are you done being fucking weird?” he grumbled.

She watched him for a moment before uncrossing her legs and turning on the bench. “Something happened. Other than you and Ian having gay fuck after engagement.”

“Fucking stop,” he groaned.

She raised her brow, unimpressed and he leaned back with a grunt.

“These two fucking asshole cops stopped us and fucking threw me in jail,” he finally said. “My parole officer got me out the next morning. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. It’s fucking over with.”

“Why they arrest you?” Svetlana asked, glancing back at Yev before turning back. “Ian sucking your dick as you drove?”

“No, Jesus, fuck!” Mickey growled. “He wasn’t giving me a fucking blowjob. They stopped us ‘cause we kissed. Fucking assholes.”

“What is happening with cops?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t give a shit,” he snapped. “I mean, fuck, of course I give a shit. I wanna fucking kill them but I don’t exactly wanna go back to fucking prison either.”

“I know people,” Svetlana began, leaning in and lowering her voice. “Back in Russia, I have cousins. They have connections in America. One phone call, we kill cops.”

“The fuck?” Mickey exclaimed. “Lana, stop with the fucking murder talk.”

“You just said you wanted them dead,” she rolled her eyes. “You are Father to Yevgeny. Before, you were piece of shit but now you are not. You want cops dead. I want cops dead. We kill them.”

“No!” Mickey snapped and quickly glanced around to make sure they were alone. “Quit talking about that shit!”

Ignoring his outburst, Svetlana grabbed her phone and dialed, speaking in Russian before Mickey could blink. Reaching for the phone, Mickey quickly hung the call and glared at his ex-wife.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whispered, glancing back at Yev to see him playing.

She smirked at his hysteria and dropped the phone back in her purse. “Alright, we don’t kill. When is wedding?”

He watched her for a moment before finally looking away, ignoring her gentle laughter as he watched his son chase after the toy he had bought.

  
********  
  


Walking into their apartment, Ian locked the door behind him and followed the smell towards the kitchen. Stopping at the doorway, he watched as Mickey stood over the stove, mixing the pot he had cooking on top. Smiling at the domestic scene, Ian dropped his keys on the counter and moved closer, taking Mickey by surprise when he wrapped his arms around his waist.

“Fucking give me a heart attack,” Mickey muttered but made no move to separate.

“Next time, you should put a fucking apron on and nothing else,” Ian smirked.

“You’re a fucking dick,” Mickey chuckled and finally untangled himself to reach for his beer. “Go take a shower.”

“Why? You planning on sitting on my dick later?” Ian grinned.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Mickey blushed through his anger before pointing at himself. “Keep with the fucking jokes. You ain’t getting nowhere near this.”

Laughing under his breath, Ian closed the distance between them and pulled Mickey’s face towards his own, their lips meeting in a bruising kiss. Mickey's shuddered breath made Ian smile as he pressed a final kiss to Mickey's neck before leaning back.

“We okay?” he asked, searching the blue eyes.

“Go shower,” Mickey repeated, lifting the beer to his lips.

Unsure what to make of the response, Ian nodded and moved towards the bathroom. When he walked back ten minutes later, dressed in pajamas with his top bare, Mickey was sitting on the couch with a bowl in his hands, coffee table pulled close with the rest of their dinner spread across. Taking his seat beside him, Ian reached for his own bowl and started eating, the television airing a film neither cared about in the background.

“I saw Ben today,” Ian started, looking over at Mick to see him already turned his way. “You didn’t tell me you saw him last night.”

“Didn’t wanna break the kid’s confidence or whatever,” Mickey shrugged, swallowing the final spoonful of his dinner.

“He told me you took him to grab some food and you talked to him,” Ian continued, his voice gentle. “That you talked about Terry.”

“He had some old asshole trying to fuck him in an alley,” Mickey replied. “Hit too fucking close to home.”

“Like the time you rescued me?” Ian asked, lowering his empty bowl to the table and turning on the couch to face him. “I never said thank you for that, did I?”

“No need to say thanks, Gallagher. I’m the fucking reason you left,” Mickey sighed.

“Hey,” Ian said, touching Mickey’s leg to get his attention. “None of that backwards shit, remember?”

Mickey nodded after a moment. “Kid was doing shit for the wrong reasons. I got no idea how fucked his life is but he was fucking shit up even more. Told him to come by the gym, talk to Clyde, maybe get him a job.”

When he heard silence, he looked over to see Ian’s soft smile.

“Your heart’s so fucking big, Mick.”

“Shut up,” Mickey grumbled, looking away.

Instead of letting it go, Ian reached out and pulled Mickey against him until he was seated over his lap.

“The fuck you doing?” Mickey growled, lifting his legs to move back.

“It’s just us here, Mick,” Ian replied, his grip loose. “No assholes, no cops, no Terry. Just you and me.”

“You want me to sit on your fucking lap?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah, I want you to sit on my fucking lap and straddle my fucking legs.”

Taking a deep breath at the request, Mickey hesitated for the span of three heartbeats. Swallowing the nerves that had risen, he slowly moved until his legs had straddled Ian’s thighs and sat down. They stared into one another eyes as Ian’s hands moved to Mickey’s waist, squeezing him gently.

“Just you and me, huh?”

“Just you and me,” Ian repeated, tilting his face up to capture Mickey’s lips. “What you said to Ben last night, you made a difference, Mick. He seemed excited, hopeful for the first time since I met him.”

“Just ‘cause he comes from a shitty home don’t mean he’s a shitty kid,” Mickey muttered.

“I know,” Ian nodded. “I told him about Joe pushing you to get your GED. He needs his too. Think maybe you guys could do it together?”

Mickey rolled his eyes but made no other comment. Ian reached around to wrap his arms tighter around Mickey's waist, the silence stretching as they settled against each other's bodies.

“Last night and this morning, it was different,” he said after a while, watching as Mickey stared off to the side, awareness filling his eyes. “We weren’t just fucking or banging.”

“You complaining?” Mickey asked.

“No, Baby,” Ian said and noticed Mickey’s quick breath. “I don’t have to call you that if you don’t want me to. We don’t have to do it that way either if you don’t want. But we can.”

Closing his eyes, Mickey rubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Ian watched him in silence, giving him the space he needed.

“Terry really fucked me up,” Mickey finally said, lifting his head to reveal his red eyes. “Fucking asshole piece of shit fucked me up. Thought I was over that shit until those fucking cops showed up.”

“Trauma doesn’t work that way,” Ian spoke quietly. “It doesn’t go away just ‘cause you want it to. I’m still fucked up because of the bipolar, because of everything I did back then. It stays with you.”

“I don’t fucking want it to,” Mickey spat. “I wanna kiss you and hold your fucking hand and it fucking terrifies me half the fucking time ‘cause of assholes like them, ‘cause of fucking Terry.”

“I know,” Ian nodded. “I pushed you before Mick, when you came out. I don’t wanna do that again. You and me, us together is fucking everything right now.”

“But you wanna get married,” Mickey reminded.

“Yeah, I do.” Ian said, his gaze sad. “I wanna call you my husband, I wanna promise a whole bunch of stuff to you, make it official. But if that’s not what you want…”

“Shut up,” Mickey shook his head, reaching into his pocket.

Ian watched as he pulled his hand back out and opened his palm to reveal a silver band. Snapping his head up, his eyes locked with Mickey’s as his mouth opened in question.

“Clyde gave me some money, my share from the fight the other night,” Mickey started, lifting himself back over to the cushions. “I bought this remote control car for the kid. Met up with Lana and Yev at the park after. Kid loved it. Made my fucking day.”

Ian’s smile softened at his words as he motioned towards the ring. “And that?”

“Used the rest of the money to get you that,” Mickey replied. “It ain’t as fancy as the one you got me but I figured if we’re doing this, gotta get you a fucking ring too.”

They stared at the band for a long moment until Mickey looked up to break the tension.

“I ain’t getting down on my fucking knee.”

“No one fucking asked you too,” Ian smiled. “Put it on me?”

Licking his lips nervously, Mickey grabbed Ian’s hand and slowly slid the ring on. Their fingers twined between them, both staring at the bands on either hand.

“Loving you ain’t wrong,” Mickey suddenly said, his eyes focused on the rings. “I don’t fucking care what those assholes say. It ain’t wrong.”

“No, it’s fucking not,” Ian nodded, blinking through his own emotions that had sprang up. “And having sex the way we did last night and this morning ain’t wrong either.”

Releasing a shaky breath, Mickey tilted forward until his forehead pressed against Ian’s shoulder, sighing when he felt arms wrap around him. They stayed locked together for several minutes until Ian pulled him to his feet towards their bedroom, ignoring the mess of dinner plates for the morning. Slowly pulling their clothes off, they climbed into bed and laid down on their sides, facing one another.

“When do you wanna do this?” Mickey finally asked.

“Get married?” Ian smiled. “The sooner the better. Gotta lock you down before you change your fucking mind.”

“I ain’t changing my fucking mind,” Mickey grumbled. “This shit’s fucking permanent, Gallagher.”

“Fuck, yes, it is,” Ian grinned, inching closer.

“You want a shindig or something?”

“I just wanna marry you,” Ian said, lifting his arm to settle around Mickey’s waist. “We can do the Courthouse. I’ll file for a marriage license tomorrow.”

Mickey nodded but made no other comment. Leaning forward, Ian wiggled his leg until Mickey opened his own. Tangling their legs together, Ian moved closer until their lips were inches apart. Their eyes stayed open, watching each other in the darkness.

“We really gonna do this?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah, we are,” Ian smiled. “Mickey Milkovich Gallagher.”

“Why the fuck am I taking _your_ name?” Mickey grumbled, tilting his head as the fight came back to him in an instant.

“I’m the one that fucking proposed,” Ian smirked. “Besides, I’ll take yours too. Ian Milkovich Gallagher.”

“Why the fuck does yours go at the end?” Mickey frowned.

“Because you’re my family, Mick. You’ve always been my family. Now we’re making it official,” Ian’s smile softened as he pushed Mickey onto his back and climbed over him. “Besides, your family’s the fucking worst outside of you and Mandy.”

“Fuck you, _Frank_ ,” Mickey spat back.

Laughing at the comment, Ian pressed their lips together in a quick kiss. “You’re mine, Mick. I’m yours too but you’re _mine_.”

“Fucking possessive shit again,” Mickey snorted. “You want me to take your name? I’ll take your fucking name.”

The words were said with annoyance but Ian could see the smile on Mickey’s face and it made his heart swell. Pressing his groin down, he swallowed Mickey’s moan with a hard kiss that left them breathless when they pulled away.

“How do you want it?” he asked, teeth catching on Mickey’s collarbone. “You want me to fuck you hard and fast? Wanna feel it tomorrow? You want me to fuck you slow?”

Pulling Ian’s face up from his neck, Mickey licked his lips. “You got the stamina, Gallagher? Why the fuck can’t we do it all?”

Smirking, Ian captured his lips again and ground his pelvis down.


	12. TWELVE

*****

Rolling over to the side, Ian reached out across the bed and stopped when he found the space beside him empty. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he looked over to see Mickey gone, the sound of the shower coming from the hall outside. Rubbing the sleep from his face, he lifted his hand to see the ring snug around his finger. A smile curved his lips as he stared at the silver band, his heartbeat rising as he thought back to the other night. When the shower finally switched off, Ian let his eyes fall to the doorway until Mickey walked inside.

“Morning,” Mickey said, his smile crooked as he looked over to Ian sprawled on the bed, sheets barely covering his waist.

“Come here,” Ian said, extending his hand towards him.

“I just took a fucking shower. You ain’t getting me all dirty again,” Mickey snorted as he walked towards the bed.

Sitting up on the mattress, Ian tossed the sheets away without care, his legs falling off the side of the bed to the ground. Pulling Mickey between his legs, he let his hands wrap around the back of his thighs and yanked him closer, lips pressing a kiss against his stomach.

“I don’t like waking up without you,” he grumbled, his lips trailing upwards. “Just stay in bed until we both wake up.”

“So you can make me late like fucking usual?” Mickey asked, his fingers moving through Ian’s hair. “I got the second fight tonight. Antonne wants me to get some extra practice.”

“I know,” Ian nodded, hands moving to Mickey’s belt. “You’re gonna do amazing. Just let me fuck you quick.”

“It’s never quick, Gallagher,” Mickey said, eyes shining as Ian pulled his belt open.

“We’ll go slow tonight after you win,” Ian smiled, pulling Mickey’s zipper down. “But I gotta get my mouth on you right now. Had a fucking awesome dream. Made me horny and shit.”

“You’re always fucking horny,” Mickey laughed as Ian pushed his pants down mid thigh. “What the fuck you dream about?”

“You and me, saying vows, getting married,” Ian said, his voice rough as he reached his hand into Mickey’s boxers.

“That shit turns you on?” Mickey asked before he tossed his head back and moaned. “Fuck, Ian.”

“You look so fucking amazing like this,” Ian whispered.

As the possessiveness inside him sparked, he leaned down to take him in his mouth. The sudden buzzing from the intercom made them jump back in surprise.

“Seriously? If that’s Antonne, tell him to come back in five minutes,” Ian growled.

“Pretty fucking confident, huh?” Mickey said, pushing Ian onto the bed and zipping his pants back up. “I gotta go.”

He turned around and made his way down the hall. Ian sat for a second longer before rushing after him towards the door. Pulling him back around before he could reach for the knob, Ian pinned him to the wall.

“Are we okay?” 

“There a reason we shouldn’t be?” Mickey asked in reply.

“I just want to make sure I’m not pushing you or something,” Ian started.

“Jesus,” Mickey rolled his eyes but his gaze was fond. “I got no fucking problem telling you to back the fuck up if I want to. We’re good.”

Reaching down, Mickey squeezed him hard, laughing when Ian yelped.

“See you tonight, Firecrotch.”

With a light punch to Ian’s shoulder, he grabbed his bag and walked out. Falling back against the wall, Ian glanced down at his ring for a second time, the worry he felt refusing to leave

  
********  
  


Tossing a final practice jab at the punching bag, Mickey rolled backwards on his feet and tore his gloves off. He took a long drag of his water and watched as the front doors opened, spectators piling inside.

“You ready?” Antonne’s voice made him spin around.

“Fuck, yeah,” Mickey nodded. “Who am I fighting again tonight?”

“Johnny ‘The Lizard’ Roman,” Antonne replied, snorting at the nickname.

“Why you snorting? It’s fucking better than the one you came up for me,” Mickey glared at his trainer. “The Rhino.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Antonne chuckled. “We did better this time.”

Grumbling under his breath, Mickey looked up to see Ian walking through the doors with Mandy and Ben by his side. With a quick glance at Antonne, he motioned for the older man to follow him as they made their way across the ground.

“Hey Mick,” Ian grinned, lifting his hand between them but aborting at the last moment.

Confused, Mickey kept his eyes on Ian for a moment longer before turning towards Ben. “Hey kid. Clyde’s over there. Let’s go.”

Not waiting for an answer, he turned and made his way towards the back of the gym with Antonne by his side. Ben gave a quick nod to Ian before rushing after the two, squaring his shoulders when they reached Clyde.

“This is the kid I was telling you guys about,” Mickey introduced. “Clyde’s the owner here and Antonne’s my trainer.”

Ben gave them both a small nod, digging his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans.

“Mickey here, once he gets more widespread recognition, he won’t need to work here anymore. He’ll be able to box professionally full time,” Clyde started. “He still wants a couple shifts in the meantime but the days we’ve cleared from the schedule, he offered your name as a substitute.”

“You got any experience working in a gym?” Antonne asked, crossing his arms.

Ben shook his head and looked to Mickey who shrugged.

“Any work experience at all?” Clyde asked, brows furrowed.

“No,” Ben replied, swallowing hard as he spoke.

“Can you guys stop being assholes?” Mickey turned towards them. “Kid’s about to shit his pants.”

“Fuck you, no I’m not!” Ben snapped but quickly backed down when Mickey looked his way.

“We’re messing with you, kid,” Clyde chuckled. “He says you’re good so we’ll take him for his word. You in school?”

“Working on my GED,” Ben replied.

“Good for you,” Clyde’s smile was genuine. “The shifts are three days a week to start, nine until six. You’ll be cleaning the equipment, tidying up the place and whatever else odd jobs we need you to do. Sound good enough?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Ben nodded, his eyes revealing his excitement. “Thanks.”

“Thank Mickey. He vouched for you,” Clyde said, patting Ben on his shoulder. “You can start tomorrow. Go grab a seat. The fight’s about to start.”

With a final nod, he and Antonne made their way towards the boxing ring as Ben turned towards Mickey.

“Thanks for doing this,” he said, nodding nervously. “No one’s ever really given me a chance, you know?”

“Look, kid, if you’re gonna get all sentimental right now, Ian’s over there,” Mickey pointed.

Ben stared at him hard for a second before a grin broke through on his face. “You gonna kick this guy’s ass tonight?”

“The fuck do you think?” Mickey said, his brows raised high.

Laughing at the words, Ben shuffled through the crowd and made his way back towards the seats. With a quick glance towards the ring, Mickey backed his way to the empty hall, leaning against the wall.

“You doing okay?”

Opening his eyes, he saw Ian standing several feet away, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’ll be fucking better once you get your ass over here.”

With a small smile, Ian closed the distance between them, stepping between the open legs. When Mickey tilted up for a kiss, Ian leaned away and glanced back down the hall.

“The fuck’s up with you?” Mickey frowned. 

Before Ian could give a response, Clyde’s voice sounded in the background, introducing the fight.

“Kick his ass,” Ian said, patting Mickey’s shoulder before rushing away.

Mickey watched him go in confusion until Clyde’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, Moving out of the hall towards the main room, he wore his gloves and started bouncing up and down, cracking his neck from side to side.

“Fighting in the blue corner, we have our own homegrown boxer, The South Side Assassin, Mickey Milkovich!”

The larger crowd started cheering as he made his way towards the ring, stepping past the ropes to stand inside. His opponent was shorter than the last, a large scar running down his right cheek as he glared at Mickey with a venomous leer. Meeting in the middle, they watched as the referee started giving the rules before turning back to face one another.

“You’re going down."

“Keep fucking telling yourself that,” Mickey winked as he backed away to his own corner.

With a final nod to Antonne at the ropes and a glance at Ian’s smile, he turned back towards his opponent and raised his arm.

  
********  
  


Pushing off from the ropes, Mickey shook the dizziness from his head and bounced backwards. His eyes caught Ian’s worried gaze in the crowd but quickly tossed his opponent a bright smile.

“That all you got, Old Man?” he taunted. “Thought you were supposed to be some sort of psycho in the ring. You can’t even lift your fucking arms.”

Johnny growled as he charged forward, missing Mickey as he ducked to the side.

“Come on, Grandpa, fucking hit me!” Mickey shouted.

Quickly closing in, Johnny threw a punch that landed square on Mickey’s jaw, cutting his upper lip. Ignoring the blood that spilled from the cut, Mickey leapt backwards and threw three jabs at Johnny’s side, catching the other man by surprise. Lead uppercut, lead hook and three more jabs had Johnny backed against the ropes. Pulling his arm behind his shoulder, Mickey threw a straight uppercut, a hook and two triple jabs, throwing Johnny off his feet onto the ground. The referee jumped in the middle for his count but Johnny crawled back to his feet only for Mickey to throw another quick hook and jab combo that sent him back down. Heaving for his breath, Johnny’s head hit the floor as he closed his eyes against the dizziness. The referee made his call and threw his hands in the air, declaring Mickey the winner. The crowd rose to their feet in cheers and Mickey looked back at Ian to see him smiling in relief as he clapped. He waved him up towards the ring but Ian shook his head and stayed rooted to his spot. Ignoring the disappointment he felt, Mickey let the referee take his hand and lift it in the air before he made his way towards Antonne.

“Why didn’t you go up?” Mandy asked, arms crossing at her chest.

“Reasons,” Ian spoke quietly and turned to Ben. “You enjoy the fight?”

“Yeah, he’s fucking awesome!” Ben exclaimed, his excitement making Ian laugh. “South Side Assassin’s such a better nickname than that Rhino bullshit they said last time.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Mickey’s glad about that too,” Ian nodded. “We’re going to a club after to celebrate. You gotta get home though.”

“I’ll take the EL,” Ben shrugged and rolled his eyes at Ian’s furrowed brow. “I’ll be fine, it’s not even that late. Gonna tell Mickey bye.”

Rushing through the crowd, Ben disappeared on the other side of the ring as Ian watched him go.

“So?” Mandy asked, waiting until he had faced her before she continued. “What’s up? Last time, you were jumping in the ring all happy and shit. What changed?”

With a quick glance around them, Ian took her arm and led her towards the far wall, away from the noise and bustle of the crowd.

“After the fight, we went to the dugouts and I proposed,” Ian started.

Her eyes widened as she bounced on her feet. “I’m gonna fucking kill him for not telling me!”

“He’s had other stuff on his mind,” Ian said quietly. “We were driving back and these cops stopped us. We didn’t know but they were following us from the dugouts. We stopped at a red light, I leaned over to kiss him, Mick was driving. They pulled us over and arrested him. Shit charges of solicitation, resisting arrest. They locked him up for the night.”

“Fucking assholes!” she snapped, her anger seeping through. “Why the fuck didn’t either of you say anything? Why the fuck didn’t you call me, Ian?”

“Mandy, there was nothing you could do,” he said. “I called Joe, we went down to the precinct and in the morning, this detective friend of his got them to drop the charges. We went home, we argued, Mick stayed out the whole day getting drunk, he got into a fight with those fucking homophobic punks from the last fight. But he saw Ben after, really got through to the kid. When he came home, he told me to ask him again and I did.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Mandy sighed. “I can’t fucking believe this. Is that why you’re holding yourself back?”

“Mandy, it took fucking forever for Mickey to be even a bit comfy, out in the open with me. Those cops fucking ruined that!” Ian snapped. “I just don’t wanna push it.”

Running a hand through her long hair, Mandy leaned back against the wall with a nod. “I get it, Ian. But just remember, if you keep too much distance, my idiot brother will probably think you’re backing out or some shit.”

“He won’t fucking think that,” Ian frowned. “I just proposed!”

“Just saying,” Mandy shrugged. “Man, I want to hurt those assholes.”

“Can’t hurt all of them,” Ian said.

“What do you mean?” she asked, turning to face him.

“I just mean assholes are a dime a dozen. Fucking homophobes,” Ian said, his anger bleeding through. “Can’t beat all their asses. Can’t beat your Dad.”

With a sharp breath, Mandy looked back towards the crowd, watching Mickey shake hands with Antonne as Clyde smacked him proudly on his back.

“Some days I don’t hate him,” Mandy said quietly. “Our Dad, some days I don’t hate him. But most days, I want to burry him in the ground. The shit he did to me, to Mickey growing up, most days I fucking want him dead.”

“He’s always gonna carry that shit,” Ian said, watching Mickey from across the room.

“Who Mickey is now, you can’t compare that with who he was when the two of you started up,” Mandy reminded. “He’s always cared, he’s always had a good heart. But he’s not afraid to love you anymore, Ian. He’d not afraid to let _you_ love _him_. I mean, Jesus, he said _yes_.”

“Fuck, he said yes,” Ian smiled. “I just hate those fucking cops so much.”

“Yeah,” Mandy nodded. “Me too.”

“What are you two douchebags talking about?” Mickey asked, cutting in as he moved to stand beside them, dressed back in regular clothes. “You fucking see that shit? Lizard, my ass.”

“You were amazing, Mick,” Ian’s smile softened.

“Yeah, still waiting for my fucking kiss,” Mickey frowned.

Smile widening, Ian reached over and pulled Mickey towards him, kissing him sweetly on his neck. When he pulled back, Mickey’s frown had intensified.

“We going to the club to celebrate or what?” Mandy cut in, tossing her arm around her brother’s waist.

He watched her for a moment before nodding. Linking her arms between theirs, Mandy urged them outside. Walking inside the club twenty minutes later, they eased their way through the dancing crowd towards the bar at the back. Nia was the first to spot them, spinning around with Ellen by her side. Reaching out to grab Ian, she pulled him into a quick hug before giving the others a smile.

“Ian texted, said you won. Congrats!”

“Thanks,” Mickey managed a small smile that quickly disappeared when Steve burst through the crowd and stopped beside Ian.

“Got you a beer,” he grinned.

Ian watched the other man and shook his head. “I’m good, thanks. Not drinking tonight.”

Stepping away, he shared a look with Nia and moved to Mickey’s other side.

“If I knew asswipe was gonna be here, I would’ve fucking gone home,” Mickey muttered over the loud music playing in the background.

“Just ignore him,” Ian said, reaching out to pull Mickey closer. “Let’s dance.”

“How many times you gonna ask? What’s my answer every fucking time?”

“You don’t dance,” Ian chuckled, his hand reaching around Mickey’s waist to pull him even closer.

They stood pressed against each other for a moment before Ian caught himself and pulled back. Mickey grabbed his arm before he could step away, eyes locking through the flashing lights.

“You gonna tell me what’s up with you?”

“I just…,” Ian started. “Mick, I don’t…”

“Hey!” Steve cut in, pushing past Mandy who gave him a death glare as he passed. “Ian, I heard you’re an awesome dancer. Wanna show me some of your moves?”

Growling in anger, Ian spun around towards him. “I’ve tried being nice ‘cause I didn’t want to make any waves but I’m done. I don’t want to dance with you. I don’t want to hang with you. I’m not interested. Why won’t you get that?”

“Because I can treat you better, Ian!” Steve exclaimed.

“Oh Jesus,” Nia said in the background. “Abort, Steve, abort!”

“No, he needs to hear this!” Steve argued. “I can make you happy, Ian!”

“What the fuck is wrong with this guy?” Mandy chuckled. “You high on some crazy shit?”

“He’s a violent, trash-talking thug!” 

“Fuck you,” Mickey spat.

“Yeah, he’s a violent, trash-talking thug but he’s s _my_ violent, trash-talking thug!” Ian snapped, ignoring the looks they were getting from the crowd around them.

“What part of no means no ain’t getting through that fucking head of yours?” Mickey added.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Steve muttered.

“Oh, you asking for a beating now, Steve,” Nia snorted in the background.

Narrowing his eyes, Mickey walked around Ian to stand in front. Reaching down, he grabbed Ian’s hand and raised it high, letting both their rings glimmer in the flashing lights.

“You see this?” he asked, pointing at his own. “He fucking proposed and I fucking said yes! See the one on his hand? I bought him a fucking ring too! He’s mine, douchebag, so fuck off!”

Steve’s eyes widened as he stared between them, swallowing his nerves as Mickey took a step towards him.

“I’m training right now, trying to be a pro boxer and all that. If you don’t back the fuck up, I’m gonna use your fucking face as practice for my next fight.”

With a gasp, Steve turned on his heel and disappeared through the crowd.

“Thank you!” Nia said, giving him a bright smile. “Molly’s been looking for a reason to fire his ass but I think he’ll leave on his own now.”

Mickey came to answer when he caught Ian’s wet eyes staring down at him through the lights. Sensing the conversation that was about to erupt, Mandy motioned the others towards the bar.

“You called me yours,” Ian said after a pause. “In front of everyone.”

“Fucking asshole was pissing me off,” Mickey snapped. "Like Jesus, do I gotta piss on you or something? Fuck!"

“Mick,” Ian smiled, his hands moving low to pull their waists together. “That was hot.”

“Fuck you is what that was,” Mickey muttered but the flush on his cheeks made Ian’s smile widen. “You done being an idiot now?”

“Mick,” Ian said quietly. “I just, I didn’t wanna push PDA on you or whatever. Not after what happened the other night.”

“Ian,” Mickey said, all the fight leaving him. “What happened fucking sucked. I’m still pissed and that ain't ever fucking changing. But fighting helps, you know? It’s like a fucking outlet for all the anger and shit and I got a fucking load of it.”

Ian smiled at his words but stayed silent.

“Look, I ain’t ever gonna be the guy that flaunts shit in front of everyone. Even if Terry hadn’t fucked me up, I’m not fucking wired like that,” he said. “But that don’t mean I want you to be fucking guarded around me or whatever. You wanna kiss me, fucking kiss me.”

“Yeah?” Ian asked, tilting his head down. “Can I kiss you now?”

“You don’t need to fucking ask…”

Ian cut him off with a hard kiss, swiping his tongue inside the mouth he was addicted to. As the kiss grew heated, Ian slipped his hands around Mickey’s waist and lowered them to the back of his jeans.

“You copping a feel?” Mickey asked, shoving his hands off with a laugh.

“I love you,” Ian said instead.

Shaking his head, Mickey pulled him back down for another kiss, ignoring the nerves inside his stomach, knowing the crowd was watching from around.

“I said I’d fucking marry you. Don’t doubt that shit again.”

Smiling brightly, Ian nodded as his arms wrapped around Mickey’s back, holding him close. The music raged around them, the crowd dancing to the blaring sound. Lowering his face to Mickey's neck, Ian trailed his lips across the warm skin, leaving a small bite before moving to the other side.

“You gonna bruise me for the fucking world to see?” Mickey chuckled. “Shouldn’t I be fucking marking you? That asswipe can take a good fucking look and fuck off for good.”

Ian laughed at the words and lifted his head, his eyes catching on the bruise forming on Mickey’s cheek from the spot Johnny had punched. Reaching out, he laid his hand gently on the cheek, rubbing his thumb up and down.

“I like you being a boxer, Mick. I like it ‘cause you enjoy it, standing in the ring, you’re in your element. All confident swagger, bouncing around, fucking drives me crazy watching you,” Ian said, eyes falling back on the mark . “Don’t like you getting bruised up.”

“Fucking Lizard got a cheap shot,” Mickey shrugged. “Not gonna happen again.”

Ian’s smile widened as he drew his hand away to hold the back of Mickey’s neck. “I got the marriage license. You just need to sign it and we’re good to go.”

Mickey took a breath and nodded. “Courthouse got any openings?”

“Tomorrow at five,” Ian said, eyes shining. “They had a cancellation. I just put our names down, spur of the moment type of thing. Next spot is in two weeks and then they’re free after that.”

Watching him for a long moment, Mickey took a step closer and smirked. “Tomorrow's good, Gallagher.”

“Yeah?” Ian asked, voice hopeful.

“Yeah, tomorrow,” Mickey nodded. “Now can we go home and fuck already?”

Ian’s smile was bright as he leaned down and pulled Mickey in for a long kiss. 


	13. THIRTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that some homophobic slurs are used in this chapter.

*****

Mickey felt a warmth across his body as he slowly slipped back into consciousness. He reached across the bed beside him, feeling his way for Ian, but felt the spot beside him cold and empty. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he felt a sudden tug and peered down, eyes catching on the ginger head bobbing up and down.

“Ian,” he moaned, legs widening before he realized.

Egged on by the rough voice, Ian gripped him even tighter, using his mouth to edge Mickey on. Taking a sharp breath, Mickey tilted his head towards the wall and arched his back, hands slipping between Ian’s hair, gripping the strands tight. One final tug and Mickey’s eyes went white, pleasure coursing through his whole body. When he finally came down from his high, his eyes slid open to see Ian leaning over him, wide grin curving his lips.

“Morning.”

“Fuck,” Mickey managed, blinking his brain back online. “Your mouth’s like a fucking Hoover.”

Ian’s eyes shined as he leaned down on his elbows.

“You can wake me up like that any damn day you want,” Mickey added, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

“It was that good, huh?” Ian teased.

Hearing the arrogant words, Mickey raised a brow high in reply. “You looking for a fucking ego boost?”

“Doesn’t hurt to hear every once in a while.”

Mickey watched him for a thoughtful moment before shrugging. “Top twenty at best.”

Smile growing, Ian lowered himself until their bodies were pressed together in a single line. His lips trailed across Mickey’s neck and shoulders, teeth catching on the skin. Cursing at himself for giving in, Mickey’s hands slipped back through Ian’s hair, massaging his scalp.

“Only top twenty, huh?” Ian asked, lifting up to meet his eyes. “You got another one in you?”

Not waiting for a response, Ian moved quickly and pressed their lips together. His tongue slipped inside Mickey’s mouth, searching for the taste he was addicted to. Reaching down between their bodies, he lifted Mickey’s leg around his waist and slid inside the warmth with a single thrust. Lowering his face back to the stretch of skin he loved to mark, Ian’s mouth was harsh against his neck as their bodies rocked back and forth.

Mickey bit his tongue to stop another moan from spilling out. Squeezing his eyes shut, he let one hand lift into Ian’s hair, gripping on the strands. His other hand trailed down Ian’s back, nails blunt on the skin as his fingers reached the curve of his waist. Feeling the pleasure build inside him, he yanked Ian’s head away from his neck and crashed their mouths together. Another swipe of tongue and a final thrust had Mickey falling backwards, his quiet groan enough to push Ian off the edge moments after. Their breathing was rough, foreheads pressed together as they slowly came down from their high.

“Come here,” Mickey whispered, dragging Ian by his hair to slide their lips together.

They made out lazily until their heartbeats finally calmed. Lifting up on his elbows, Ian slid out and settled on top, thighs caging his legs.

“The fuck’s gotten into you?” Mickey asked, eyes blinking slowly.

Ian gave a crooked smile. “We’re getting married today.”

Mickey watched him for a long moment, lifting a hand to his face, tender in the touch. “We are.”

Ian leaned down and kissed him softly before he finally rolled to the side.

“You wanna shower first?” he asked, smile soft in the sunlight shining across their bed. “I’d say we shower together but we’d never leave the fucking apartment.”

Mickey took a breath and lifted from the mattress. With a quick nod, he grabbed a change of clothes and disappeared in the bathroom, closing the door shut behind him. Switching the shower on, he turned to stare at his face in the mirror. Before the glass could fog, his eyes ventured over the reflection staring back. When they had first started all those years ago, Mickey had been the toughest guy on the block but terrified on the inside. Everything Terry had done had left a bruising mark. When the cops had arrested him, dragging him away for being who he was, all those fears returned with crushing force. The memories he had locked away, the fears he had kept hidden and ignored for years had come crashing back. His hate for those cops was strong. His hate for Terry was stronger.

Shaking his head, he stepped inside the tub and let the scorching spray wash away his thoughts. When he was done minutes later, he stayed busy in the kitchen until he heard Ian closing the bathroom door. Dressing in his comfy jeans and sweater, he grabbed his change of clothes and moved towards the hallway, eyes catching on the photos Ian had hung. Frozen in his spot, time slipped away until a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind. He jumped at the sudden touch but settled against Ian’s chest, letting him hold him close as they stared at the photos on the wall. Taking a deep breath, Mickey finally cleared his throat and stepped away.

“I’m gonna go see Joe.”

“Right now?” Ian frowned. “We’re supposed to be at the Courthouse in a few hours.”

“Yeah, I got my change of clothes,” Mickey replied as he pat the gym bag in his hands. “He called and said I had to check in. I’ll take the El and meet you over there.”

He slipped around Ian towards the door when a hand reached out to stop him.

“Mick,” Ian started, moving to block his path. “Are you okay? You’re acting weird.”

“Gallagher, I’m fine. I’ll see you there.”

He closed the door before Ian could open his mouth. Falling back against the wall, Ian slid a hand through his hair and sighed, the worry he was feeling slowly beginning to spread.

  
********  
  


With a nod towards the Receptionist, Mickey made his way down the hall an hour later, stopping at the open doorway with a knock. Joe looked up from his computer and smiled, waving him inside.

“Hey,” he started, falling into one of the chairs.

“It’s good to see you, Mickey.”

He gave a quick nod and lifted his gaze. “I wanted to say thanks again for the other day.”

“No thanks are needed,” Joe’s smile was genuine as he leaned back. “If I see something in someone, if I see a good person, someone who deserves better than their choices, better than what life dished at them, I’m more than happy to help out if I can.”

“Not a lot of fucking parole officers are like that,” Mickey snorted.

“No, maybe not,” Joe relented. “Then again, not a lot of people raised in violent and abusive homes, taught at a young age that crime is the only path are able to see a way out. Some can but a lot give in to that life of crime. I have a lot of parolees and one look at their files, their history, one look in their eyes and I just know which ones are going back to prison. You’re one of the good ones, Mickey. You don’t deserve the childhood you had, you don’t deserve what Terry put you through and you don’t deserve what those officers did the other night.”

Running a hand through his hair, Mickey cracked his knuckles in a nervous gesture. “Not like I’m a fucking Saint.”

“Not at all,” Joe chuckled. “You were in prison after all and you have made several sketchy choices. But those don’t define you. Nor should they.”

Mickey looked up and cracked a smile. “I don’t say this shit too much but thank you.”

Joe gave a quick nod and reached for his coffee. “That all you came here for?”

“Fuck,” Mickey shook his head. “I’m getting hitched today. Me and Ian.”

“That’s great news!” Joe grinned. “Didn’t realize you two were engaged.”

Mickey lifted his hand to show the platinum band. “He asked the night before those fucking cops arrested me. Got a marriage license and everything. Courthouse had an opening today.”

“Mickey, that really is great news. I’m happy for you and Ian both,” Joe said. “What’s the problem?”

“Guess I’m looking for some advice?” Mickey asked, scoffing at his own words.

Joe watched him for a long moment, his expression thoughtful, before he lowered his coffee and sat forward. “Do you love him?”

“Yeah,” Mickey spoke quietly.

“Can you see your life without him?”

“No, man, he’s it,” Mickey replied.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to fuck it up! I don’t want _him_ to fuck it up,” Mickey sighed and pointed at his ring. “People divorce all the fucking time. I get that but him and me, this shit’s permanent. If we get hitched and then something fucks it all up? Not sure I can handle that.”

“What do you think could mess it all up?”

“Take your fucking pick,” Mickey muttered. “More cops busting us for no fucking reason, my fucked up family, fucking homophobic assholes, all the fucking South Side?”

“Mickey, look at me,” Joe said, waiting until their eyes had met before speaking again. “Assholes are everywhere. We can’t change that and yeah, you and Ian will probably have to deal with even more issues than regular couples because you’re gay. I wish people weren’t so narrow minded, I wish people had the capacity to see past their backward ways of thinking but I also wish for world peace and an end to poverty and racism. The world is what it is. It’s a sad fact but it’s true.”

“Not really giving me motivation,” Mickey mumbled.

“What I’m saying is that those problems will always exist no matter where you are but you can’t hold yourself back from happiness because of them. You living your life to the best of your ability, being happy and not hurting anyone by doing it, that’s the best revenge against the ones that want to hurt you,” Joe replied. “And look, you’re not perfect. Neither is Ian. Nobody is. You’re both going to make mistakes but that’s what marriage is. As long as both of you understand that it’s hard work and as long as you care for one another, truly, then push all those other thoughts away.”

Mickey nodded at his words and swallowed hard.

“It’s understandable, you being worried, especially with what happened the other night,” Joe added. “I haven’t known you for very long, I know Ian even less but I’d like to think of myself as a good judge of character. The few instances I have seen you and Ian together and the way he was worried about you when we were at the precinct, I know the feelings between you are genuine. So stop being nervous. You’re getting married today. Focus on that and nothing else.”

Mickey looked up and gave a final nod.

“Good,” Joe smiled. “Have you invited anyone to the Courthouse?”

“Fuck, no,” Mickey chuckled. “Don’t need anyone seeing me get all emotional and shit.”

Joe laughed as he took another sip of his coffee. “Well, congratulations either way and I’m looking forward to your next fight. Count me in, front row, center.”

Smirking, Mickey rose from the chair and moved towards the door. With a final glance back, he left the office and slid down the hallway, stepping out into fresh air with newfound confidence.

  
********  
  


Sitting outside on the Courthouse steps, Ian glanced down at his watch for the twentieth time. Dressed in a black suit and grey tie he had spent a good portion of his paycheck on, he ran a hand through his slicked back hair as he waited. A part of him had been afraid of pushing after everything that had happened but Mickey had asked him to propose again and agreed on the date. The more the minutes ticked by, the worse his nerves became. Rubbing the frustration from his face, he glanced to the side and froze, watching as Mickey walked towards him, black dress shirt tucked inside his dark slacks, grey tie strong around his neck.

“Hey,” Mickey started, stopping a couple steps lower.

“Hey,” Ian replied, swallowing the urge to stumble through all his questions. “Everything good?”

“Yeah,” Mickey nodded, warm smile spreading across his face. “I’m good.”

With a smile that reached his eyes, Ian rose from the ground as Mickey moved to stand beside him. They stared at one another for a moment longer before Mickey pushed him backwards with a laugh.

“Let’s fucking do this.”

Ian’s grin was wide as he pulled the marriage license from his pocket and motioned towards the Courthouse behind them. Their eyes never left each other as they made their way inside the building, missing Mandy standing across the street, watching them with her jaw hung open. Through the doors, they stepped up to the main reception, sliding the license across the counter.

“My boyfriend and I are getting married today,” Ian announced, laughing when Mickey kicked his shin.

The older woman looked up from her computer, unfazed and bored as she pulled the sheet towards her. “Proof of ID.”

Once the verification had been done, she slid the license back and pulled her glasses off.

“Courtroom two hundred on the second floor. Down the hall on your right. There’s another five ceremonies scheduled before you right now. Wait until you are called, present the license, the Judge will perform the ceremony and then you sign your names. Any questions?”

They shook their heads and she shooed them away. Stepping out of the elevator minutes later, they walked together down the hallway, stopping at the end where five other couples sat waiting on the benches outside, friends and families gathered around them. Seeing the look on Mickey’s face, reached out to grab his arm, leading him to a secluded corner in the hall. Pushing Mickey against the wall, he stepped between his legs and smiled, hands itching to reach out but staying frozen at his sides.

“Part of me still can’t believe we’re doing this shit,” Mickey said.

Looking at the hallway around them, he saw the privacy of their small corner. Tattooed fingers wrapped around Ian’s face to draw him in, their lips touching in a gentle press. Giving two more soft kisses, Ian lowered his head to Mickey’s shoulder, their hands tangling as they breathed each other in.

“Look at us, holding hands,” Ian teased.

“Want me to shove you off?” Mickey growled.

“No!” Ian laughed, gripping Mickey’s fingers tighter with his own. “Gimme your ring. We gotta exchange them inside again.”

With the bands tucked away in Ian’s pocket, they fell into a comfortable silence, locked away in their own world as the minutes ticked by, oblivious to the noise that surrounded them.

“Gallagher and Milkovich?”

They snapped their eyes towards the room to see a woman poking her head through the open doors. Taking a final deep breath, they pulled back from one another and made their way forward. The Judicial Assistant scanned through their license before waving them inside.

“Welcome,” the Judge began, her smile warm as she regarded them. “I’m Judge Bennett and I will be officiating your ceremony today. You have the marriage license?”

“Yes,” Ian said, motioning towards the Judicial Assistant who nodded from the side.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” the Judge smiled. “Do you have a witness?”

They glanced at one another until Ian shook his head. “It’s kind of private, just the two of us.”

“Not a problem. My Assistant Louise will sign your marriage license,” the Judge said before her smile softened. “We are here today to celebrate the love that the two of you share, and to recognize and witness your decision to journey forward in your lives as marriage partners.”

They both took deep breaths as they turned to face one another, eyes locking in an instant.

“True matrimony is more than joining the bonds of marriage of two persons. In its right relation, it's the uniting of two minds already in harmony. When such a true bond already exists between two people, it is fitting that an outer acknowledgement be made. This acknowledgement is the prime reason for this ceremony,” the Judge continued. “May your love create a safe haven for you both and may it grow deeper with every day that lies ahead of you.”

Mickey blinked against the sudden wetness in his eyes, unable to look away from Ian smiling back at him. Before the Judge could continue, the doors behind them burst open and Mandy charged through, eyes narrowed in a glare.

“The hell are you doing here?” Mickey asked, brows furrowed.

She stopped at his side and smacked the back of his head. “You’re getting married and you didn’t fucking tell me?”

Glancing at the Judge who laughed in surprise at her language, she gave a sweet smile in apology before smacking Ian the same way.

“How could you not tell me?”

“We didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” Ian defended.

“You’re getting married! You two, after all the shit you’ve been through, are getting _married_! How the hell can it not be a big deal?” she exclaimed, glancing over her shoulder just as Lip, Kevin and V walked in.

“Did you call the whole fucking gang?” Mickey growled and spun towards the Judge. “You’re not gonna hold me in contempt or whatever, are you? ’Cause I’m gonna cuss a lot in the next minute.”

Judge Bennett stared between the small crowd and glanced to her Assistant who gave a helpless shrug.

“Guys, what the hell are you doing?” Ian asked, watching as the others moved to stand beside Mandy.

“You’re getting married,” Lip replied. “I’m your big brother. Don’t I have to give you away or something?”

“What the hell? No,” Ian chuckled. “It’s a Civil Ceremony, not a fancy wedding. We just wanna get married.”

“Well, now you have all four of us as witnesses,” V grinned.

“Butt buddies for life!” Kevin shouted.

“Fuck my life,” Mickey groaned, turning back towards the Judge. “Can we just get on with it?”

“I suppose so,” the Judge agreed, voice unsure. “I will ask you to please refrain from any further foul language.”

Mickey gave a frustrated nod as Ian faced the rest. His glare was enough for Mandy to usher them backwards. Sighing, Ian closed the distance towards Mickey and leaned down.

“We still good?”

“No, I wanna walk out like a fucking diva,” Mickey snorted. “Yeah, Gallagher, we’re good. Let’s just fucking do this.”

Looking at the Judge’s pointed stare, he gave a helpless shrug that had her smiling as she shook her head.

“Please face each other and hold hands.”

Moving a step closer, Ian reached across to take Mickey’s hands in his, eyes locking as the world around them fell away again.

“Ian and Mickey, will you receive each other as your lawful wedded spouse, in equal love, living together as friend and mate, as partners sharing the full measure of your days?”

“Yes,” Ian whispered.

“Yeah,” Mickey spoke quietly.

“Do you have vows you wish to say to one another?” the Judge asked, stepping back when they both nodded.

“It took me a long time to get here,” Mickey started. “Wanting you, loving you was never the problem. Being okay with those feelings was.”

He took a breath and Ian squeezed his fingers, giving him the comfort he needed to keep going.

“Never thought I’d get this,” he said, missing Mandy’s saddened gaze. “Never thought I deserved it, you know? But you were persistent as shit.”

He froze and looked to the Judge who chuckled. “I really should put a stop to such language but you are my last wedding of the day so I guess I can be a bit more lenient.”

Ian laughed and looked back, giving Mickey a smile that made him swallow.

“People wrote me off as the neighbourhood thug but you saw past all that shit and saw something in me,” Mickey spoke quietly, his words making Ian’s eyes shine. “I know I screwed things up a lot when we were younger, so fucking terrified of my Dad. Thanks for not giving up back then, I guess.”

Ian’s smile saddened as he moved even closer.

“But you fucked up too. You made me think you saw me like everyone else, that I wasn’t worth it no more. I hated you for that,” Mickey said, his words making Ian take a harsh breath. “I’m saying this now ‘cause I don’t want you to bring this shit up anymore. That anger, disappointment or whatever it was I felt back then towards you, it was just a small part of what I really felt, you know?”

He squeezed Ian’s fingers tighter in his own and licked his lips.

“Loving you’s the best thing I ever did in my life,” Mickey said, the whispered confession making Ian wipe his eyes against his sleeve, not wanting to separate their hands. “You got me, Gallagher. You fucking always have. I love you.”

Releasing their hands, Ian gripped the sides of Mickey’s face and pressed their foreheads together.

“I love you,” Mickey repeated, his words quiet and private.

“Mick,” Ian started, pulling back to meet his eyes again. “I’ve loved you since I was fifteen. I learned what love meant through you. Anyone who came before you, anyone who came after when we were apart, no one came close to measuring up. Not ever.”

Mickey blinked through the wetness in his eyes and glanced over to see Mandy crying in her fist. 

“I hate that I hurt you but I hope that you see me now for who I am. Not that scared kid who fucked up the single best thing in his life but the guy who loves you more than anything.”

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey muttered and cleared his throat, desperate to keep his emotions from leaking out.

“I do, Mick. I love you,” Ian said, hands caging his face once more. 

“Don’t fucking leave me again,” Mickey whispered.

“I promise,” Ian whispered back, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you.”

“Goodness,” the Judge cut in, clearing her throat to get her own emotions in check. “Ian Clayton Gallagher, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded partner, to profess your love for him, to provide for him, to protect him and put him above all others, and to be his husband and most faithful friend so long as you shall live?”

“I do,” Ian smiled.

“Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich,” the Judge switched her gaze. “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded partner, to profess your love for him, to provide for him, to protect him and put him above all others, and to be his husband and most faithful friend so long as you shall live?”

“Fuck, yeah, I do,” Mickey grinned.

The Courtroom laughed as Judge Bennett fondly shook her head. “Do you have rings to exchange?”

Ian reached inside his pocket, holding the rings out in his open palm.

“These rings are the symbol of unity in which your two lives are now joined in one unbroken circle,” the Judge exclaimed. “You may go ahead.”

Ian took a breath and slipped the ring back on Mickey’s finger, the platinum shining in the light overhead. Looking up and meeting Ian’s eyes, Mickey slipped the silver band across his long finger, hands clutching for a moment before they let go.

“By the power vested in me by the State of Illinois, I now pronounce you married. You may seal the promises you have made to each other with a kiss.”

Grinning wide, Ian pulled Mickey against him without a care, lips pressing together in a desperate touch. The sound of cheers from behind made them break the kiss but they leaned their foreheads together, not wanting to move away as they took a second to breathe each other in.

“Congratulations,” the Judge smiled, her words enough to pull them from their private moment. “Please sign the license.”

Moving towards the Assistant, they signed on the dotted lines and glanced back at the Judge. Before either could comment, Mandy and Lip were by their sides to sign their names.

“Congratulation, again. Best of luck to you both. You may have the room for a few minutes,” Bennett finished before she and the Assistant left.

“Holy shit!” Lip exclaimed. “You guys are fucking married! I can’t believe it!”

Pushing past him, Mandy lifted on her toes to kiss Ian’s cheek before grabbing Mickey’s arms. They stared at one another, no words needed in the silent exchange. He rolled his eyes and pulled her against him, his hug short but tight as she pressed a sweet kiss to his face.

“Alright, let’s give these married idiots a minute,” she said, turning to the others and ushering them out of the Courtroom.

As Mickey watched them go, Ian reached from behind to wrap him in a strong embrace. Lowering his face to Mickey’s shoulder, he pressed a gentle kiss and tightened his arms.

“We’re married,” he whispered. “I get to call you my husband now.”

Spinning around, Mickey yanked him into a hard kiss that left them both wanting more when they pulled away. Lips bruised and red, they stared at one another as the heat between them surfaced.

“Fuck, not here,” Mickey chuckled as he stepped back. “Don’t wanna get our asses landed back in jail.”

With a final kiss that held the lingering promise of more, they made their way out of the Courtroom until they were standing outside on the steps.

“We cleared our whole afternoon off for this!” V exclaimed as she threw her hands in the air and did a dance. “We having a party!”

“I ain’t celebrating shit at the Alibi,” Mickey snapped.

“Awful memories, I hear you,” Kevin nodded and turned to Lip. “How about your house?”

“Hell, no,” Lip shook his head. “Tami will kill me if I bring booze and noise to the house right now. The baby kept us up all night, screaming like a banshee. Plus, Debbie’s there with Franny and Liam. Carl’s…I don’t know what the fuck Carl’s up to these days.”

“I got an idea,” Many chimed in. “How about the dugouts?”

“Ain’t that public property?” V questioned.

“We’ll be quiet,” Mandy winked. “Invite some people and we’ll get the party started.”

“We were thinking of just going home,” Ian started, sliding his arm around Mickey’s shoulders.

“And fuck all night?” Mandy snorted. “You can fuck later. Right now, we’re celebrating!”

“You try fucking telling her no,” Mickey shrugged when Ian turned towards him. “Fucking claws come out like a psychotic cat.”

“I can attest to that,” Lip nodded.

The smack behind his head and Mandy’s glare had him quickly looking away.

“Alrighty, then,” Kevin gave a lazy grin. “We’ll supply the beer and meet y’all over there.”

With giant thumbs up, he and V slipped away as Lip and Mandy gave them a quick wave and followed. Sighing heavily, Ian raised the license between them as the grin returned to his face.

“Fuck,” Mickey said as laughter spilled between them.

“I seriously need to kiss you right now,” Ian said, stepping closer and yanking Mickey in.

Standing on the steps of the Courthouse, with people walking in every direction around them, Mickey took a breath and dragged Ian’s face towards his own, the kiss a gentle touch between their lips.

“We’re married,” Ian smiled. “Mick, we’re married.”

“Shut up,” Mickey said, his voice fond as he pulled Ian back against him, uncaring to the watching world that passed by.

  
********  
  


When evening finally came, the small crowd Kev had gathered were celebrating as they chugged the free beer. Mandy spun around with V in the center of the open space, cheered on by the Alibi regulars that had joined in on the celebration. Lip stood off to the side, arm swung around Ian’s shoulders as they watched Mickey trade barbs with Kevin.

“You ever gonna let go of that pubes shit?” Mickey growled, grabbing the beer that the taller man had pushed his way.

“I still don’t get how a guy can use another dude’s soap,” Kevin shrugged. “They always have pubes on it unless you’re fucking hairless down there.”

They stared at one another for a long moment, Kevin’s eyes narrowing.

“Do you shave down there, Mickey?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Seriously, man?”

“I just don’t get it!” Kevin hollered. “You and Ian share soaps?”

“Course we do, we’re fucking married now!”

The smile that spread across Kevin’s face made Mickey take a step backwards.

“Yeah, you are,” he nodded, reaching out to pull Mickey under his arm.

Standing across the dugouts, the Gallagher brothers laughed at the scene until Lip pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

“I forgot to tell you,” he started, pushing the phone towards Ian. “Fiona called earlier, left a message. Have you given her your new number yet?”

“No, I’ve been so busy with everything, I forgot,” Ian sighed. “She called for me?”

“Yeah, to congratulate you,” Lip smiled. “Listen to the message, little brother.”

With a pat against his shoulder, Lip moved towards the crowd as Ian held the phone up to his ear.

_“Hey Ian! It’s Fiona!”_

He took a deep breath at the sound of his sister’s voice, realizing in an instant how much he missed her presence.

_“Lip called and told me you and Mickey were getting married today. I can’t even tell you how happy I am, Ian. Listen to me, crying on the phone. I’m sorry!”_

His gaze softened as he listened to her voice.

_“I just want you to know that I believe, deep down in my heart, that you and Mickey will be the ones that make it. I know I wasn’t always supportive of you guys, I just didn’t want my little brother getting hurt. But I see how much he loves you, Ian, how he took care of you back then, especially when the rest of us were too busy with our own shit to notice. I’m so sorry, Ian.”_

Breathing deeply, he rubbed his eyes as he kept his back towards the crowd.

_“Mickey loves you and I know you love him too. So make it work, okay? No matter how hard it gets and shit always gets rough for us Gallagher’s and Milkoviche’s, but no matter what, make it work. You’ve loved each other for a long time and I want you to be happy. I love you, Ian. Mickey will probably shove you off but give him a kiss for me anyway. Love you.”_

Saving the voicemail, he hung up the phone and ran his hand across his eyes. When he finally turned back around, Mandy was standing a few feet away, smile gentle as she watched him.

“Fiona,” he lifted the phone. “Left a message. Wanted to say congratulations.”

Mandy nodded as she walked towards him, reaching out to hold his hand. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Glancing back at her brother, she watched as he spoke animatedly with Kevin and two Alibi regulars in the distance.

“He’s happy,” Mandy shrugged.

Ian’s smile was bright as he leaned in for a hug. When they finally pulled away, he gave a wink and crossed the field, tossing the phone at Lip as he went. Kevin caught his eyes and gave a knowing nod as he dragged the others away. Before Mickey could turn to follow, Ian wrapped his arms around him from behind, one arm tucked around his waist while his other hand settled across his heart. Nose pressed against Mickey’s neck, Ian closed his eyes and breathed him in. With their bodies turned away from the rest of the crowd, Mickey gave in to the private moment as he tilted his head inward, hands lifting to cover the arms that were holding him.

“Hey, Mr. Gallagher,” Ian smirked.

“Fuck off,” Mickey groaned but the faint blush on his cheeks gave his fondness away.

“You can’t use that as an insult anymore. It’s your name now too,” Ian reminded.

“I can still call you a bunch of other names, bitch.”

Ian’s smile widened as he leaned in to kiss his neck again.

“You guys are so cute!” V shouted from the fence.

“Fuck off, no we’re not!” Mickey snapped, pulling out of Ian’s arms as he whirled around.

“Like a couple of cute, cuddly sweethearts that turn to mush around each other,” V barreled on as she sipped her beer.

“The fuck?” Mickey frowned. “You even know me?”

“Mick,” Ian chuckled, dragging him back. “She called us cute. What’s wrong with cute?”

“Would you fucking look at this.”

The sudden voice sent a chill down Mickey’s spine as he took a step back and looked across the field. His eyes met Terry’s as his Father walked towards them, three of Mickey’s cousins flanking either side.

“My faggot son married his faggot boyfriend,” Terry’s words brought silence to the crowd. “You pole-smoking queers.”

“The fuck are you doing here?” Mickey asked, moving to stand in front of Ian and pulling Mandy behind him.

“Wanted to see this shit with my own fucking eyes,” Terry spat on the ground. “Fucking faggots. Ain’t bad enough you got hitched but to throw a fucking party to celebrate this shit? Makes me fucking sick!”

“No one invited you so fucking leave!” Ian shouted but stopped when Mickey’s hand reached out to grab him.

“You need your fucking queer husband to fight your battles too?” Terry snapped. “I should’ve cut the rest of your balls off when I had the chance.”

“Would you please get out of here?” Mandy pleaded.

“There’s another one, my whore of a girl. Both of you, fucking waste of space!”

“Just fucking get out of here,” Mickey cut him off.

“Or what?” Terry taunted, throwing his empty bottle against the fence.

The shattered pieces made Mickey jump as he watched them scatter across the ground.

“What’s the little faggot gonna do?” Terry laughed. “You gonna stand up and fight me? Be a man? That’s the fucking joke, ain’t it? You fucking queer, never gonna be a man again!”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Mickey blinked and glanced over to see Joe approaching from the side. His eyes locked with his parole officer’s for a long moment before Joe turned the other way.

“Terry,” he started.

“Fucking Joe,” Terry chuckled. “Ain’t seen you in fucking years.”

“Well, here I am,” Joe replied. “Wanna tell me what’s going on here?”

“Just having a conversation,” Terry waved a drunken hand through the air. “With my whore of a girl and the faggot son I wish was dead.”

Taking a deep breath, Joe took another step forward. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“You a fucking cop?”

“No, I’m a parole officer,” Joe said and lifted his chin towards Mickey. “Your son’s.”

“Small fucking world, ain’t it?” Terry spat. “You see what that fucker did? He got married to another man.”

“Terry,” Joe cut him off. “I’m asking you to leave before I call the cops.”

Ian watched Terry’s eyes narrow before the older man shoved at one of the cousins to bring him another beer. As Terry chugged the liquid down, Ian glanced towards Mickey and found him frozen in place.

“Mick,” he started, reaching out to tug on his hand. “Mick, look at me.”

“Look at these fucking queers,” Terry spat, throwing the empty can away. “Makes me sick to my fucking stomach.”

Snapping out of his daze, Mickey pushed past Ian and charged down the field. As Terry lifted his chin in defiance, Mickey stepped around him towards one of his cousins, grabbing the gun he knew was hidden.

“Mickey!” Ian shouted.

Instead of answering, he triggered the gun and pointed straight at Terry’s head.

“Jesus, Mickey, stop!” Ian rushed forward, but Joe pushed him back.

“Mickey, look at me,” Joe said, slowly moving towards them. “You don’t want to do this. Give me the gun.”

“I am so fucking tired of your bullshit,” Mickey said, staring his Father in the eye. “All those fucking years, all that shit you did to me, to Mandy. Never hated anything the way I fucking hate you.”

Ian looked over to see her crying as she watched the scene.

“Mickey, you don’t want to do this. He’s nothing but a parasite,” Joe spoke calmly. “Give me the gun, son. He isn’t worth it.”

He hesitated for a moment longer before removing his hand from the trigger. “I’m not gonna fucking kill you so I can end up back in prison. I’m done with all that shit.”

“You ain’t got the balls, kid,” Terry sneered. “You ain’t got the balls to take me out.”

“Yeah, I fucking do,” Mickey snapped and turned back towards Joe. “I’m not gonna kill him but I am gonna fight him.”

Ian frowned as he took a small step forward. Lowering the gun to his side, Mickey turned back towards Terry and nodded.

“Been training for a few weeks now, got a couple fights under my belt. Got a long fucking road if I wanna get anywhere but you and me, that fight we had at the Alibi all those years ago, it wasn’t enough.”

“You wanna fight me?” Terry spat on the ground again. “You think you got the balls to stand and fight me like a man?”

“You’re nothing but a wasted old man. I’m not gonna fight you, _Dad_. I’ll fucking pummel your ass to the ground, you’ll never walk straight again.”

Terry’s gaze searched him, sizing up his words before a smirk covered his face. “You got it. I’ll fucking kill you in the ring.”

With a glare towards the rest of the crowd, Terry pushed at the cousins and stormed out of the field. Once their shadows had disappeared around the corner, Mickey dragged the gun back up and stared down at the barrel. Sighing heavily, he turned towards Joe and pushed the gun towards him.

“Mickey, what the fuck!” Ian shouted, rushing forward and grabbing his arm. “What the fuck was that?”

“Son, you’re on parole,” Joe reminded. “You even looking at a gun is a violation.”

“Look, write me up or whatever the fuck you need to do but I ain’t gonna apologize for that shit,” Mickey snapped. “You keep telling me I deserve better than that fucking asshole. This is how I do it.”

“By fighting him?” Joe asked, bewildered.

“Yeah,” Mickey nodded. “Once and for fucking all.”

Joe looked at Ian before turning back to Mickey and running a hand through his hair. “Don’t pull this shit again. You don’t buy a gun, you don’t hold a gun, you don’t even look at a gun. Got it?”

When Mickey gave a nod, Joe slid the weapon inside his pocket and disappeared down the walkway. Before either could look at one another, Mandy approached from the side, eyes wet with unshed tears.

“He’s gonna kill you,” she whispered.

“No, he won’t,” Mickey shook his head.

“Yeah, he will,” Mandy’s voice cracked as she pulled away and moved towards V and Kevin. “Can I get a ride home?”

The crowd began to file away from the dugouts, each person glancing back at Mickey as they left. Lip waited until the others had gone before stepping towards them.

“That was fucked up.”

“Yeah, Phillip, I know,” Mickey sighed.

Ian looked towards his brother and gave a nod. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Lip hesitated a moment longer but quickly followed behind the others. They faced one another as their eyes met, gazes locked for several seconds until Ian looked down and moved towards the street. The ride home was quiet, a tension sparking the air around them. The moment they were in the safety of their apartment, Ian tossed his jacket to the couch and whirled around.

“Seriously, Mickey, what the fuck!” he shouted, all his anger bursting through.

“Calm down,” Mickey muttered.

“Mick, you can’t fight him!”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because he’ll fucking hurt you again!”

Breathing heavily, Ian ran a hand across his eyes in frustration. His own anger leaving as quickly as it came, Mickey took a step forward.

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t,” Ian shook his head, his fear and sadness bleeding through. “You won’t be fine, Mickey.”

“You got that little faith in me?” he gave a small smile.

“Mick, he’s your _Father_ , not some random boxer you meet in the ring,” Ian exclaimed. “He’s gonna hurt you like no one else can because the fucking asshole knows what to say, how to twist his fucking words and how to use that shit against you. Jesus, he’s done it your whole fucking life!”

“That’s why I need to do this!” Mickey snapped. “When I came out at the Alibi, a part of me thought I was fucking free of him but I wasn’t ‘cause he’s always fucking here!”

He smacked the side of his head and Ian’s shoulders dropped in defeat.

“His voice, his fucking words, all that shit is always here,” Mickey said, the anger leaving his voice. “I can’t let that asshole have power over me no more.”

“I’m just…,” Ian started, eyes shining as he reached out to spread his hands across Mickey’s shoulders. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Mick. I don’t want him to hurt you and I know he will.”

“Stop,” Mickey said, his voice quiet as he stepped closer. “Give your fucking husband some Goddamn credit, huh?”

Ian’s gaze snapped up at the words. “You just called me your husband.”

“Why the hell you so surprised? I did marry you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did,” Ian finally smiled as he pressed their foreheads together. “Don’t let him hurt you.”

“I won’t,” Mickey’s voice held a promise that silenced all the fears that had erupted between them. “We done talking about this shit now?”

“Why?” Ian frowned.

“It’s our fucking wedding night,” Mickey rolled his eyes. “Less talking, more fucking.”

Ian’s sudden laugh broke the tension between them. Leaning in, he pushed their lips together and took the kiss he wanted before dragging Mickey towards the bedroom. Their clothes came off in a rush, faster than the other nights, for reasons neither wanted to rehash again. As they stood before each other bare, Ian reached out to pull him forward when Mickey stopped him.

“Get on the bed and sit up,” Mickey said, nervously licking his lips.

Ian blinked twice before he slid on top the mattress, leaning back against the headboard. Tossing the bottle of lube beside them, Mickey took a breath and slowly climbed on, moving to straddle Ian’s legs. He looked up once he settled and saw the love shining back at him through Ian’s eyes. Reaching for the lube, he pushed it forward and leaned back. Squeezing Mickey’s thighs in a show of comfort, Ian warmed the lube across his fingers. Moving closer, he slipped one arm around Mickey’s waist, fingers spreading across his back while his other hand went even lower. Mickey closed his eyes and bit his lip as a long finger slid inside him, moving in and out to adjust for Ian’s length. When two fingers brushed along his inner walls, he pushed Ian’s hand away and nodded.

They stayed silent as Ian spread the lube around himself. Wiping his hand clean against the sheets, he helped Mickey lift upward off the bed. As their eyes locked, Mickey slowly lowered himself down, moaning at the breach. Ian held the sides of his face and dragged him in, lips pressing together in a gentle kiss. When Mickey began to roll his hips against the weight settled inside him, Ian wrapped his arms around his husband’s body and started rocking forward.

“Fuck,” Mickey muttered, eyes falling shut as his arms wrapped around Ian’s shoulders.

Their foreheads touched as they breathed each other’s air, bodies moving together, in and out. Feeling the pleasure slowly rise between them, Ian tilted Mickey’s head back to catch his lips again, the kiss more heated than the one before. He slipped his tongue inside the warm mouth as his hips picked up their pace, lifting up inside Mickey’s tightness.

“I love you,” Ian’s voice cracked at his own words. “I love you, Mick.”

Tightening his arms around the broad shoulders, Mickey tilted his head to the side to kiss Ian’s cheek. His lips trailed upwards in a loving gesture, leaving kiss after kiss against his skin. Ian snapped his eyes shut to keep his emotions in check, the softness of the touches sending his heart into overdrive.

“Fuck me,” Mickey said, pulling back to run his hand down Ian’s neck.

Not needing any more persuasion, Ian spun them around until he had Mickey pinned beneath him. Lifting up on his elbows, he thrusted with his full strength, hips moving at a brutal pace. Arching his back off the bed, Mickey yanked Ian’s face down towards him and crashed their lips together, teeth clashing as their tongues glided in the heated space. Ripping his mouth away, Ian lowered his face and bit into Mickey’s neck. The bruise sent Mickey over the edge, his muted cry dragging Ian behind him.

They breathed together, in and out, eyes locked as they rode the high from their orgasm. Running a hand across Ian’s sweaty brow, Mickey brought their lips together again, the kiss nothing more than a gentle press. When their breathing finally calmed, Ian lifted slightly upward and slipped out. He cleaned them with the nearest shirt he found before they settled on their sides, blanket strewn across their bodies, facing one another.

Tossing an arm across the warm waist, Ian pulled him closer against his own chest. Lifting his knee, he slid his leg between Mickey’s and pressed up. The touch made Mickey moan from the overstimulation but Ian kept his leg tucked between his, arm tightening around his waist.

“We’re married,” he whispered, heart lifting when he saw the small smile on Mickey’s face.

“You gonna keep repeating that?”

“Every damn day,” Ian grinned, inching closer. “I love you.”

Mickey’s hand peeked out from under the blanket, his fingers gentle as they framed Ian’s face.

“I love you too. You know I do.”

When they pulled back from another tender kiss, Mickey snorted.

“When the fuck we get all soft?”

“Soft is good,” Ian smirked. “We do hard and soft, fast and slow. We do it all, Gallagher.”

“That shit’s not gonna stick,” Mickey chuckled. “ _You’re_ Gallagher, shithead.”

“You’re Gallagher now too,” Ian reminded, pushing Mickey onto his back as he climbed on top.

He leaned down and smiled when Mickey welcomed the weight. Before he could lower himself further and steal another kiss, Mickey grabbed his neck and wrestled him to the side. They laughed as they tussled across the bed, the sheets scrunching under their bodies. Finally pinning Ian on the mattress, Mickey grabbed his arms and smirked down at him.

“You got another round in you or you need a breather?”

All Ian could do was smile as he jerked his body upwards to capture Mickey’s lips.


	14. FOURTEEN

*****

With a final jab at the punching bag, Mickey moved back on his heels and grabbed his towel. Stepping under the shower, he let the hot spray wash away the soreness in his muscles. As he made his way towards the exit minutes later, Clyde called out his name from across the gym.

“What’s going on?” he asked, walking through the doors.

“Good practice today,” Antonne said, smile lopsided.

“Thanks,” Mickey frowned. “That why you wanna talk?”

“Mickey,” Clyde began, leaning back on his desk next to his brother. “There was a promotor at your last fight with The Lizard. You’re making some noise and folks are tuning in.”

“Yeah, but I said I wanna stick with you guys.”

“No, we know that,” Clyde smiled. “We didn’t realize at the time because he was under guise but Hector Hernandez was at your last fight.”

“Do you remember I took you to the North Side a while back? Pointed out a few pro boxers, leaders in your weight division?” Antonne cut in.

“Yeah, Louis Denver, Hernandez and the top guy, Willie Peters,” Mickey said. “Hernandez was here?”

“Yeah, he was here and he watched you take The Lizard down. Apparently, you impressed him enough that he wants to book a match with you,” Clyde replied. “But don’t get too excited. Hernandez is mean as shit and the only reason he wants to fight you is so he can beat you down, stop any rise and noise you’re making in the boxing circuit.”

“You said he’s a brawler?” Mickey looked at Antonne who nodded.

“That’s right. The guy somewhat lacks the footwork but he makes up for it through the force of his punch. He plays dirty, always has. Clean enough not to draw any penalties from the refs but dirty, all around.”

Mickey stared between the two older men for several seconds, weighing his options as he took their expressions in.

“You think I can beat him?” he finally asked.

The brothers stared at one another before Antonne chimed in.

“Honestly, and this isn’t blind praise again or anything, but I do think you got it in you. Your sequencing is unpredictable and you’re quick on your feet. With a brawler like Hernandez, that’ll throw him off in the ring. He’ll go for the continuous one-hand beatdowns but your boxer-puncher style will be enough to get the upper hand. If you beat him, doors will open for you quick.”

“With professional boxing, how it all works is that there are four major organizations,” Clyde explained. “You’ve got the IBF, WBC, WBO and the WBA, or the World Boxing Association, which is the one we’re gearing you for. There are seventeen weight divisions and we’ve got you pinned in welterweight.”

“Alright, yeah, I know all this,” Mickey frowned.

“Okay, so every year, the WBA announces it’s rankings in each weight division. The fifteen best boxers get named,” Antonne added.

“There are hundreds of other boxers trying to rise up the ladders, fighting every chance they can, hoping to get some good promotion under their belt, word of mouth and win against some bigger names in order to get themselves on that list,” Clyde spoke up. “Once you do, that’s when you start playing for the World Championships against the true winners in the game.”

Mickey took a deep breath and nodded, letting the information sink in before speaking. “And you guys want me to go all the way?”

“We think you have it in you to get on that list,” Clyde nodded. “Haven’t seen a fighter like you in a real long time.”

“Yeah and Hernandez, he’s a great fighter. Got a lot of skills, strength and a power to his punch. But he’s not the one you wanna beat,” Antonne chimed in. “Willie Peters, he was ranked ninth by the WBA last year. He’s the guy you have to beat to start getting those doors for you open, the real doors. Ones that will turn you into a true pro.”

“But to beat Willie, you have to beat Hernandez first,” Clyde reminded. “We’re lucky ‘cause he took that first step himself. Egos run really high on these guys and a young boxer, mid-twenties, making a lot of noise, gaining favor with the locals like you, that made enough of an impact that he took that first step.”

“Well, fuck, all this sounds pretty damn good,” Mickey snorted. “Why I feel a ‘but’ coming in?”

“The fight with your Father,” Antonne sighed and quickly continued before Mickey could get a word in. “Mickey, I really advise against it. We both do.”

“All it can do is hurt you, hurt your chances, hurt the future you’re trying to carve for yourself,” Clyde added.

“Look, you guys don’t get it,” Mickey shook his head. “I’m the one that pitched the idea to him. Not gonna pussy out now.”

“But he’ll hurt you, kid,” Clyde said, his worry bleeding through his words. “I know Terry from before, I know the animal that he is. He’ll hurt you and you’re gonna let him do it.”

“Getting pretty tired of the fucking lack of faith,” Mickey muttered. “Look, thanks for giving a shit. Both of you. But I gotta do this. I gotta be able to push past the shit in my past if I wanna get anywhere and I can't if I don’t do this first.”

The brothers looked at one another once more before nodding in defeat.

“Alright, tomorrow it is then,” Clyde replied. “Not sure who all is gonna come by. Probably just whoever you tell. Think that’s best, anyway. Don’t want word getting out if Terry…”

“If he kicks my ass?” Mickey finished. “I know all his fucking moves by now.”

“Go get some rest, then. Come by early tomorrow so we can get some last minute training in,” Antonne gave his shoulder a pat.

Mickey made to leave before stopping mid-step and turning back. “Thanks for looking out. It means something, knowing I got you in my corner.”

The answering smiles made Mickey swallow the rest of his words as he walked towards the exit.

“We forgot to mention,” Antonne called after him. “Congrats to you and Ian!”

“We’re happy for you kid,” Clyde added, grinning wide.

Waving in the air in embarrassment, Mickey made his way outside, smiling when he saw Ian waiting with the car at the front entrance. Climbing inside, he turned around, ready to speak, when Ian leaned across the seat and kissed him. The touch of lips was short but enough to make them pause, pressing their heads together for a moment.

“You guys are gross.”

Spinning around, Mickey stared in the backseat at a grinning Ben. “The fuck you doing here?”

“Lip asked us to come by the house for dinner. Tami felt like looking, wants us all there,” Ian replied as he pulled away from the curb. “Thought I’d bring Ben along. He can work on his studies while he’s at it.”

“Something you’re supposed to be doing too,” Ben tossed a pointed stare to the front.

“Had a lot on my fucking mind,” Mickey shot back, straightening in his seat.

“Don’t let him fool you,” Ian smiled, looking over his shoulder. “He got all the books. Thinks I haven’t noticed but I did.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey muttered, turning his head towards the window as a faint blush covered his skin.

Ben watched as Ian reached across the seat to take Mickey’s hand. Sighing heavily, Mickey turned his palm over so their fingers could lace together, smiling when he felt Ian play with his ring. Instead of breaking the sweet moment with a witty jab, Ben sank in his seat and looked down, eyes wide and hopeful.

Pulling up at the Gallagher house minutes later, the three walked inside to the usual sound of chaos. Debbie was screaming at Carl in the far room, Franny stuck to her chest. Kev and V gave a quick wave as they chased their kids towards the family room.

“Hey Ian!” Liam’s smile was bright as he gave his brother a quick hug before turning to Mickey. “Can I call you Uncle Mickey now?”

Ian smirked as he watched Mickey stare wide eyed at his younger brother.

“Yeah, kid, sure,” he said, nervous smile filling his face.

“Awesome!” Liam’s smile grew infinite as he wrapped his small arms around Mickey’s waist. “You gotta teach me how to fight, Uncle Mick!”

Not giving the chance for anyone to comment, Liam turned towards Ben with a frown. They eyed one another up and down for a tense moment before Liam smiled again. Grabbing Ben’s hand, he lead him towards the family room next to V and Kev. Turning back towards Ian, Mickey rolled his eyes when he saw the shining gaze staring back at him.

“Don’t get fucking emotional again,” he mumbled just as Debbie stormed inside the kitchen.

“I swear, Carl makes me want to quit my shitty day job and become a murderer,” she fumed, taking a deep breath as she regarded them. “Thanks for the fucking wedding invitation, by the way.”

When Tami’s voice called down from upstairs, she whirled around and passed her crying daughter to a wide-eyed Mickey.

“Welcome officially to the family,” she said, rushing out of the room.

Franny stared up at Mickey as he peered down. The moment his brow rose to his forehead, the baby fell in love and threw her head back in a laughing fit. He held her tight against his chest, bouncing her up and down as her tiny fingers curled around his.

“You love your Uncle Mickey?” Ian asked, wrapping his arms around them both from the side. “It’s hard not to.”

“Quit it,” Mickey said but the smile on his face gave him away.

Pressing a kiss against Mickey’s shoulder, Ian reached out to play with his niece’s hand. They stood together in their own corner of the kitchen, attention aimed at the little girl, oblivious to the noise and movement around them.

“Cute family,” Tami grinned, announcing her presence as she walked up with Freddie in her arms.

Mickey quickly reined his enthusiasm and gave a subtle nod in reply. She rolled her eyes at the gesture, handing Freddie to Lip before walking to the stove.

“So, how’s everything?” Lip asked, leading them towards the couch in the other room.

“Yeah, how’s married life?” V chimed in.

“Bet all they do is fuck like rabbits,” Kevin snorted.

“Married life is great,” Ian said with a small smile as he sat down and pulled Mickey with him.

Wrapping an arm around Mickey’s shoulders, he leaned his chin down and held Franny’s fingers.

“You guys are too cute for words,” V gushed, bouncing both kids on her knees.

Giving a look to Ian that had him laughing, Mickey gently pushed the baby towards him and rose to his feet. Tossing a finger at the awing group, he stepped through the front doors and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. Curling his hand around the end, he took a deep inhale, letting the smoke settle in his lungs before blowing it out into the night air.

“How’s everything, really?” Lip asked, lowering his voice as he turned to his brother. “Is he still planning on fighting Terry?”

The smile vanished from Ian’s eyes as he lowered his gaze. “Says it’s something he has to do. I’ve been trying not to think about it, keeping myself busy with everything else.”

“But you don’t want him to fight?” Kevin asked, taking one of his kids from V.

“No, I don’t want him to fight,” Ian said, looking up to meet Ben’s quiet stare. “He’s gonna hurt him, I know he will. But me trying to convince Mick not to do it? Just another fight I don’t wanna have with him.”

Looking over towards the door, Lip rose to his feet and handed Fred off to Debbie when she sauntered in from the kitchen. He made a motion to help Tami and left the room, glancing back over his shoulder before slipping outside to the front steps.

“Can I bum a smoke?”

Mickey turned around and gave a quick nod. When they were leaning across opposite sides of the railing, both smoking in silence, Lip cleared his throat.

“So you’re really fighting your Dad, huh?”

“Getting fucking tired of people second guessing me, man.”

“I’m just trying to understand it,” Lip defended. “You’re doing good, Mickey. You and Ian are good. Hell, you guys are great. You just got fucking married. He’s got a job he really loves, is trying to make a difference and shit and you’re taking the steps to be an actual pro boxer. Why do you wanna fuck with that?”

Mickey watched him for a long moment, taking another drag from his smoke before finally speaking.

“You ever had your ass kicked?”

The words made Lip frown in confusion until he slowly nodded. “Yeah, who the hell in the South Side hasn’t? I remember you and your cousins beating me up years back.”

Mickey snorted at the memory but shook his head. “I don’t mean getting your ass kicked by neighbourhood thugs. Fuck, I guess that’s what I was back then. I mean, by Frank? By Monica, before she died?”

Neither noticed the door pulling open by an inch as Ian stood inside, listening to their conversation.

“No,” Lip said quietly.

“You ever get a gun pushed to your head because you spilled the milk when you were eight?” Mickey asked, all trace of humor gone from his voice.

“No,” Lip shook his head.

“You ever have a fucking smoke burnt into your arm 'cause you couldn’t get your little sister to stop crying?”

Lip looked down, not needing to answer.

“Frank’s a fucking deadbeat. He’s an alcoholic, out for himself asshole. Sure a shit ain’t winning any Father of the Year awards,” Mickey said. “He left you guys to fucking fend for yourselves, never gave a shit really, unless he could fucking benefit. He’s a sperm donor, not a fucking Dad. But no way in hell does he compare with mine.”

Unable to reply, Lip remained silent, his hand lowering to his side, cigarette forgotten.

“Terry’s a evil, psychotic prick. Ian’s words,” Mickey said but the smile never met his eyes. “He dragged me outta bed one night, before my tenth birthday, pissed off, drunk, high on whatever shit he snorted that day and beat the fucking shit outta me. Not for something I did but ‘cause he lost a fucking bet. Rest of my brothers were always in and outta the fucking house so it was me and Mandy for most of it. Said he’d kill me if I ever mentioned it. You know what? He fucking would've.”

“Jesus,” Lip breathed.

“All that shit he did, it took me fucking years to realize it and Ian had a big fucking role in that but we didn’t deserve that shit, man,” Mickey shook his head. “Him doing what he did to Mandy? Beating me most my fucking life? Bringing Lana over to fuck the gay outta me? You got no idea how much hate I got for him.”

“I’m sorry,” Lip spoke quietly, his words making Mickey meet his gaze.

“That the first time you ever said that?”

They shared a small smile before Mickey tossed the rest of his smoke away.

“That kid in there, Ben, he probably gets it more than anyone. Terry’s not just a fucking deadbeat like Frank. There ain’t nothing good inside him,” Mickey sighed. “Me fighting him, that’s been a long ass time coming. Only now, it’s on my fucking turf, on my fucking terms.”

“I get it,” Lip said, tossing his forgotten smoke to the ground. “Fuck, Mickey, I get it.”

They shared another nod as Lip reached out to pat his shoulder. The moment lingered, a new understanding between them, before Lip pushed the door open to see Ian standing there, eyes wet with tears. Lip moved inside and closed the door behind him as Ian stepped out onto the front steps.

“How much of that you fucking hear?”

Instead of answering, Ian shoved him against the side fence and crashed their lips together. His hands roamed under Mickey’s jacket, frantic in their movements, fingers reaching for the feel of skin.

“Hey, calm the fuck down,” Mickey chuckled, holding Ian’s head back so their eyes could meet.

“I’m sorry,” Ian whispered, shaking his head as he wiped a hand across his face. “I’d kill him if I could, Mickey. I’d fucking kill him.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he smiled, widening his legs for Ian to move closer between them. “Just get behind me with this, okay?”

Nodding in understanding, Ian lowered himself to capture Mickey’s lips again, the touch gentler than before. They stood wrapped around each other, kissing in the dark corner of the steps, oblivious to the watching world.

“Tomorrow?” Ian eventually asked.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated.

The door burst open with a frustrated Debbie raising her brow at their display. “You guys planning on fucking out here or coming in for dinner?”

Giving his sister a glare, Ian grabbed Mickey’s hand and led them inside the house. When they reached the dining room, they took two seats on one end while the others scattered around them. Ian watched with a laugh as Liam pulled his chair beside Mickey, looking up with bright eyes.

“Hey Uncle Mickey, can you show me how to throw a punch after dinner?”

“Who you trying to beat up, kid?” Mickey asked, reaching for the chicken as everyone dug in. “Big brother Lip steal your lunch money?”

Liam threw his head back with a laugh as Lip raised his finger from across the table. Tami quickly smacked the back of his head which made the group snicker at the movement. As Liam started in on a boy from school, Ian sat back and watched the table for a moment. His heart raced at the warm feeling, seeing Mickey so welcomed and accepted with his crazy clan. The worry he had for the fight would never leave him but he understood Mickey’s choice to fight Terry. He loved Mickey more than anything but he’d swallow his own anxiety to get behind his husband.

_Husband_ , Ian smiled to himself.

Reaching under the table, he took his husband’s hand in his own, smiling brightly when Mickey laced their fingers together and squeezed without looking away from his conversation with Liam. Ian was worried but they’d make it through the fight like they did with everything. They were grown up now, no longer scared kids running away at the first sign of anguish. They were together, married, committed for life and nothing would ever stand in their way again.


	15. FIFTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the big fight scene! Some homophobic slurs are used by a minor original character and the Milkovich everyone hates.

*****

Opening his eyes, Mickey stared at his reflection in the mirror, the face staring back giving him pause. Ten years ago, he’d been a scared teenager, too terrified to do much else but buckle under his Father’s abusive command. All he had envisioned for himself had been a life of crime and poverty, never being true to who he was or the wants and needs he had deep down inside him. A ginger freckled boy had changed everything. Ian had shown him what love meant. He’d shown him compassion, loyalty, kindness and wanting better for yourself in the world you lived in.

In the beginning, all he had seen Ian as was a way to give in to his cravings without ever having to admit to what he wanted. Their time together had been scarce but each moment, Mickey remembered in detail. When Monica had come back and Ian had gone to him, alone and scared, things between them had changed. Their path to one another had been a tough battle and neither had escaped the clutches of their reality unscathed. But their commitment to each other now, their vows to be together always, had a permanent flavor to them. No longer were they scared kids trying to make the best of the hand they’d been dealt with. They were together, in love, devoted and married.

Mickey’s smile vanished as his mind came back to the present. All that stood in their way was Terry. No matter the cost, no matter the outcome, Mickey knew he had to fight him. Winning was his way to tell Terry the biggest fuck you of them all. With a ring on his hand and Ian on the sides cheering, winning would never feel so sweet again. As scared as a small part of him was deep down, he knew it was something he had to do, a final chip on his shoulder to rid himself of before he could finally move on from the pain and anger his past was riddled with.

“Hey,” Ian’s voice cut into his thoughts.

Focusing in the mirror, he watched as Ian slid inside the bathroom behind him, arms going around his waist, lips seeking out his neck in a tender kiss. They stayed locked together for several seconds, words not needed to fill the silence. Ian eventually leaned back and pulled Mickey around to face him.

“You nervous?”

“Fuck, no,” he said and they shared a small smile. “You heading to the Center?”

“Yeah, I promised Nia I’d help out with some of the artwork the kids are doing,” he replied, soft hands running up Mickey’s bare arms towards his neck. “I’ll come to the gym before the fight starts.”

Mickey gave a nod but made no other comment. Sensing the dampened mood, Ian pushed his own worry aside and leaned in.

“You better not get too hurt at the fight ‘cause I plan on fucking you all night after you win.”

He followed up the words with a gentle bite at Mickey’s cheek, trailing his mouth upwards until their lips met. They stayed pressed together in a soft kiss before Mickey gave a laugh and pushed him away.

“Lemme get changed. I’ll drop you off.”

With a final smile, Ian ducked out of the bathroom. Turning back towards the mirror, Mickey took a deep breath and nodded before grabbing his change of clothes.

  
********  
  


Pulling up outside the Center, Mickey parked the car and made a face when he saw Ian smiling brightly at him.

“The fuck’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” Ian chuckled. “Do you wanna come see the place, see inside?”

Giving a quick nod, he climbed from the car and the two of them started walking to the entrance. Just outside the front doors, Ben looked up from the sketchbook in his hands.

“You been here long?” Ian asked when they reached him.

“A couple hours. My Dad was being a total asshole at home, throwing shit around. Didn’t feel like being there,” Ben shrugged, turning his gaze back to the sheet of paper.

“I can teach you some moves,” Mickey suggested and made a noise when Ian elbowed him.

“Violence isn’t the answer.”

“Okay, Gay Jesus,” Mickey muttered, the words enough to coax a smile out of Ben.

“You fucking shit!” a sudden voice boomed from behind.

They stepped back just in time to see a man twice their build barreling towards them, face red from rage, hands drawn up into fists. Ben scrambled to his feet and moved backwards, fear shining in his eyes as the man advanced towards him.

“I’m gonna kick your fucking ass, you faggot!”

Before the man could reach out to grab Ben’s collar, the two of them stepped between them.

“Why don’t you back the fuck up?” Mickey snapped, lifting his hands to push the man backwards as Ian shielded Ben.

“Who the fuck are you?” the man spat. “This ain’t got nothing to do with you! It’s between me and my fucking kid!”

“Unless you want your ass kicked out here in the open, back the fuck up,” Mickey threatened.

The man narrowed his eyes, sizing Mickey up before he launched forward. With a quick punch that sent the man backwards, Mickey grabbed his arm and pinned it behind his back, shoving him hard into the wall. Ben stood frozen at the side, watching them in silence.

“Fuck you!” the man spat when Mickey finally released him and turned his attention back to Ben. “Just wait until you get home! Your fucking ass is mine!”

Stumbling down the street, he disappeared around the corner as Ian turned to Ben, eyes full of concern for the shaken teen. “Are you okay?”

Ben shook his head and snapped out of his daze. “You didn’t need to fucking do that! You got any idea how worse it’s gonna be!”

“Ben, you can’t stay there with him. Do you have any other family?” Ian asked.

“If I had anyone, you think I’d fucking be _here_?”

Spinning around, the teenager stormed inside the Center, pushing past Molly who was watching from the entrance.

“Everything okay?” she asked, voice cautious.

When Ian gave a nod and promised to talk to him, Molly hesitated before disappearing back inside. Sighing heavily, Ian turned around to see Mickey watching him, a thoughtful look on his face.

“That how it looked with me and Terry?”

“Fuck, Mickey,” Ian said. “Something like that, I guess.”

“Kid’s got nowhere else to go?” Mickey asked, looking up with a squint.

“No, I don’t think so. Why?” Ian said, brows furrowed together.

The moment their eyes met, Ian’s confusion melted away, replaced by a mixture of love and fondness that had Mickey clear his throat at the open display.

“He can stay with us, I guess,” he shrugged. “For a few days. Figure out what he wants to do.”

“You have a soft spot for the kid, don’t you?” Ian smiled.

“Fuck you, no I don’t,” Mickey argued but the words held no venom. “Kid’s like a toned down version of me. Fuck, I don’t know.”

“It’s a great idea. At least, until he can find a more permanent solution, I guess,” Ian nodded and smiled again. “You’re so soft, Mick.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey said, throwing a finger in the air that only made Ian laugh as he pulled him in for a kiss. “I gotta go beat the shit outta someone.”

“You’ll have your chance tonight,” Ian said quietly.

The look that passed between them was heavy, both understanding his meaning without further words needed. They leaned in against each other briefly, Ian’s hand running up to Mickey’s neck for a gentle squeeze.

“I’ll see you at the gym later,” he finally said when they pulled away.

Mickey gave a nod and a lingering look before climbing in the car and shooting off down the road. Making his way inside the Center, Ian picked Ben out at the end of the courtyard, sitting on his own under the shade, sketchbook forgotten.

“Can I sit?”

“Free fucking country,” Ben muttered.

With a small smile, Ian lowered himself to the ground, stretching his legs out on the grass. They sat together for several moments, neither speaking, as they watched the other kids run around the courtyard around them.

“Your Dad’s really something,” Ian finally said.

“Grade A Father material,” Ben scoffed, eyes still focused on the chaos in front.

“I can tell you from experience that group homes are absolute shit,” Ian started, his words enough to drag Ben’s gaze up to his. “Yeah, I stayed in one with my brother a few years back. I think I was sixteen. Full of gangs and other guys our age just looking for trouble. Our big sister Fiona eventually petitioned the Judge to become our legal guardian. Our Mom was not around back then and our Dad, he went before the Judge pretending to care but he was out for himself. Just a drunken, selfish asshole. Fiona ended up winning and we got to go home after a few days.”

“That’s nice of your sister.”

“Yeah,” Ian nodded, smile reflective. “She made a lot of mistakes, wasn’t perfect. None of us were. None of us _are_. But she always gave a shit, you know? She cared about us all.”

“Must be nice having siblings,” Ben spoke quietly. “I wish I had that. Maybe I’d be able to leave that shitty home and stay with them.”

“Well, I actually have an idea I wanted to run by you,” Ian started, waiting until Ben had looked up before speaking again. “Mickey actually suggested it outside before he left. What do you think about staying with us for a while?”

Ben frowned as the words settled in the space between them. “You mean, move in with you guys?”

“Yeah,” Ian nodded. “I mean, it would only be temporary until you figured out what you wanted to do. Plus, keep in mind that we live in a two bedroom apartment and the second room is for Mickey’s son, Yev. He stays with us a couple weekends every month so you would be getting the couch.”

“Why would you offer me that?” Ben asked. “Why do you care? Why does Mickey?”

“Because he sees himself in you,” Ian spoke quietly. “His Father, you already know a bit from what Mickey told you. He’s just a bad fucking guy and tonight, Mickey made the smart or absolutely dumb decision to fight him. Still trying to figure that one out.”

“He’s fighting his Dad?”

“Yeah, legally, at the gym,” Ian nodded. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen but I understand why he needs to do it. I’m not saying you should go fight your Dad. I just want you to know that Mickey gets it. So do I. We all come from bad backgrounds, Ben. All of our families are broken in different ways. Working here at the Center, it’s giving me a lot of clarity on the type of person I wanna continue being. So if you want, the offer’s there.”

“Shit,” Ben said, wiping a hand over his wet eyes. “No one’s ever…fuck, no one’s ever done something like that for me.”

“Is that a yes?” Ian asked.

“Yeah,” Ben whispered and cleared his throat to strengthen his voice. “Yeah, man. Thank you.”

They shared a small smile before Ian rose to his feet. “Let’s go help out Sydney and the others. Saw them painting on the other side of the courtyard.”

They busied themselves for the next couple hours, settled in the middle of the grass, a group of kids around them as they dabbled in their artwork. Walking towards her office, Molly stopped at the courtyard entrance and watched the scene before her. She smiled at the moment just as Ian looked up and met her eyes. Giving a small wave, he rose to his feet and made his way towards her.

“Everything okay with Ben?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I kind of offered him a place to stay, with me and Mickey. Mick’s the one that suggested it, actually. Is there anything wrong with me offering that? It’s just temporary, just until he can find a better solution, something more permanent. His Dad’s really something.”

“Something is an understatement,” she sighed. “How does Ben feel about it?”

“He seemed into the idea,” Ian said. “He looked relieved, I guess.”

“Well, it is a bit unorthodox,” she started. “But he is over sixteen. As long as he’s comfortable with the idea, I don’t see the harm. I’m grateful to you both, actually.”

“I’m just glad he said yes,” Ian smiled, relief from her agreement shining on his face.

“What are you guys up to over there?” she asked.

“Some of the kids wanted to do some painting. Nia and me, we got them some supplies from the discount store the other day. They seem to be having fun,” he replied, glancing back over his shoulder before turning back. “You got another minute, actually? There’s something else I wanna run by you.”

“Walk and talk,” she said, leading him through the hallway towards her office. “What’s on your mind?”

“I had an idea. What would you think about us doing some sort of talent show?” he suggested.

“Talent show? What do you mean?” she asked, leaning back against her desk to face him.

“Some of the kids here, they’re really gifted. Jessica is amazing at sketches, Jeremy is a total comedian. The other day, Tyrell was doing this rap melody he wrote himself. It was really good,” Ian said, eyes wide as he gestured with his hands. “I just thought, these kids don’t have a lot in their lives and maybe if we can help them showcase a talent that they have, it can give them a boost in confidence or something, you know?”

“So a talent show?” she smiled.

“Yeah, but not a competition or anything,” he chuckled. “Just a way that they can show everyone one thing they’re really good at. We can help the ones that don’t know figure out what that one thing is, help them get prepared. Maybe it’ll be fun. Do you hate the idea?”

“Not at all,” she said, her smile reflective. “I think it’s a wonderful idea, Ian. I really do.”

“Shit, okay,” he grinned, his nerves falling away at her enthusiasm.

“I meant to ask you. How’s married life treating you?”

“It’s always kinda felt like me and Mick were married. Just now, the commitment and promises are signed and sealed, permanent,” he said, smiling softly.

“Is he still planning on fighting his Father?”

“Yeah,” he said, all humor leaving his voice. “Tonight, actually.”

“How do you feel about that?” she pressed, the concern in her voice genuine.

“Worried,” he shrugged. “I hate that he’s doing it but I get why he needs to.”

She reached out to pat his arm in comfort before moving to sit behind her desk. “I’ll come out and help you guys announce the idea in a bit.”

“Thanks, Molly,” he smiled and walked out of the office.

Seeing Nia just through the courtyard entrance, he gave a thumbs up that had the other woman ginning.

“Told you she’d be up for it,” Nia smacked his arm. “Molly’s got a huge heart when it comes to these kids. Any idea that’s a good one, she’d never be against it and your idea is great.”

When Molly emerged from her office an hour later, they were busy helping a group of kids sort through their art supplies. Giving a wave to her friends, Molly moved to the side fence and waited.

“Okay, full disclosure,” she started. “I’ve been communicating with a contact of mine at City Hall for the past week.”

“Everything okay?” Nia asked worriedly.

“Everything’s great,” Molly promised. “The thing is, the Center has become a bit of a hub for a lot of local kids. They see this place as somewhere they can go to be safe, somewhere that they can get advice, they can be encouraged. The outpouring of support from the neighborhood has been a wonder too. Local small business owners wanting to chip in. Mario at the corner Deli, he’s been so sweet, donating food for the growing number of kids we have and letting a bunch of them hang out at his shop when the numbers here get too intense. It’s been amazing and I know it all started with you, Nia.”

The two women shared a meaningful smile as Molly reached out to hold her friend’s hand.

“A lot of the success at this Center is because of you and I am so grateful that you’re on this team,” she exclaimed and turned to Ian. “I’m also glad that Steve is gone. Guy spent more time ogling your ass and the UPS guy rather than helping anyone.”

Ian chuckled under his breath until she reached out to hold his arm.

“But letting you work here, Ian, that was another choice that I’m proud I made,” she said. “You’ve been such a great asset, a great addition to the Center and I’m very grateful that you’re here.”

“Shit, Molly,” he said, eyes wide at her praise.

“No, you deserve to hear this. The kids love you, so many have opened up to you and you’ve made the Center a better place.”

He took a breath and nodded, unable to form any words.

“Which leads me to the last phone call I just had,” Molly smiled. “With the number of kids growing, City Hall has approved us opening a second location.”

“Molly, that’s amazing!” Nia exclaimed.

“I know!” she chuckled. “But there’s one catch. I would like the two of you to be partners and run that Center together.”

Ian and Nia quickly glanced at one another, shocked by the announcement.

“Are you serious?” he asked, turning back with a frown. “I get wanting Nia but me, I’m…”

“You’re a great guy,” she cut him off. “Despite the problems in your past, you have a big heart and you care. I see that through the progress you’ve made with so many of the kids here, I see that with Ben and I see that through the few times I’ve been around you and Mickey.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he started, licking his lips.

“I know this is sudden and you both have a lot to think about but know that you have my support and my confidence.”

They thanked her before she walked back to her office. Leaning against the fence, they turned towards each other with the widest grins.

  
********  
  


Cracking his neck from side to side, Mickey punched his fists in the air, bouncing back on his heels. Feeling a sudden pair of hands on his shoulders, he whirled around and rolled his eyes.

“The fuck, Ian? Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Sorry,” Ian chuckled. “How did training go?”

“My fucking mind was all over the place,” Mickey said, moving to fall onto the bench. “Why the fuck am I so nervous?”

“Because he’s your Dad,” Ian said quietly, taking the spot beside him.

“Fuck,” Mickey swallowed, letting his head fall back against the lockers. “Anyone else out there?”

“It’s pretty packed, actually. Lip, Mandy, Kev and V are here and a whole bunch of locals I don’t even know. Clyde looked surprised by the turnout. I guess word got around really quick.”

When Mickey stayed quiet, Ian got on his knees in front of him, looking up to catch his gaze.

“Mick, you got this. Just focus on your punches, don’t let him corner you. He’ll say a lot of shit in the ring. You can’t listen to him, okay? Just hit him and keep hitting him.”

Mickey nodded and rose to his feet, yanking Ian up with him. “What happened with the kid?”

“I told Ben he could stay with us. Kid looked so confused at first but he said yes. Was grateful,” Ian replied. “Made a spare key for him at the depot across the street. He said he’d get some of his stuff tomorrow when his Dad was at work.”

The noise from outside began to rise, cheers and heckles echoing through the halls towards them. Glancing at one another, Ian pulled Mickey forward until his arms could wrap around him. The hug they shared was a sense of comfort and love they both needed.

“Don’t let him hurt you, Mick,” Ian repeated his previous words when they pulled away.

“Gallagher…”

“Promise me.”

The pleading in his voice gave Mickey pause before he slowly nodded. Reaching down, he grabbed Ian’s ringed hand, holding it up with his own.

“You see this? The fuck you think this means? I plan on being stuck with you for a long ass fucking time. This shit is permanent. Not going nowhere.”

Ian’s smile softened as he leaned in closer. “You wanna grow old with me, Mick?”

“Fuck off,” Mickey chuckled but pulled him in for a short but heated kiss. “Go grab a seat, man.”

When Ian disappeared down the hallway, Mickey smashed his fists together, moving to the edge of the entrance with heavy legs. The noise began to grow as he heard the distinct drawl of his Father announcing his presence. Closing his eyes, he rocked back and forth on his heels, his nerves getting the better of him with every second that passed.

“You ready?”

He snapped his eyes open to see Antonne watching him with trepidation. Swallowing hard, he forced himself forward with a slight nod. Antonne opened his mouth to argue but quickly grew silent, a look of defeat filling his gaze.

“Ref announced the fight. Terry’s already working the crowd. Brought a bunch of lowlife rednecks with him,” he said instead. “Just waiting on you, kid.”

With a final nod, Mickey followed Antonne down the hallway. The moment they stepped inside the open space, his eyes caught with Terry’s from a distance. The sneer and animosity staring back made Mickey falter in his footsteps but he quickly steadied himself and rose up through the ropes to stand inside the ring.

“Alright, gentlemen, let’s go over the rules. This ain’t an official match but the rules still apply all the same,” the referee said as he stared between them. “No biting, no kicking, no spitting. Watch your low blows, your kidney and rabbit punches. If one of you gets a knockdown, you’ll go to your corner until I say. I want a clean match tonight. Understand?”

Terry gave a grin, his bare upper body already covered in sweat. As the referee backed away, Terry took a step forward, the glint in his eyes dangerous.

“I’m gonna finish what I should’ve ended that night at the fucking Alibi,” he whispered, the stench of alcohol thick on his breath. “You’re dead, kid.”

Moving backwards, he lifted his fists in the air, shouting towards the cheering group that had followed him. Looking away, Mickey’s eyes caught on the end of the gym where Joe was standing next to Clyde, the concern they felt obvious in their expressions. Facing his own corner, he walked towards the ropes and took a deep breath. He scanned his side of the crowd through the faces he knew, settling on his sister who watched him with worry before his gaze locked with Ian’s. They stared at one another, neither needing words to communicate what their eyes silently said.

When the referee made a noise to signal the start of the match, Mickey whirled around only for Terry to knock him hard in his chin, sending him backwards against the ropes and onto his knees.

“You call yourself a fighter?” Terry taunted, his followers cheering every word he shouted. “You’re nothing but a little pussy faggot.”

“Mickey, get up!” Antonne urged from the ground, hands clenched around the ropes.

Shaking the dizziness from his head, Mickey rose to his feet and lifted his fists.

“Not enough? You want some more?” Terry spat before he lunged forward.

Raising his arms, Mickey defended himself against the onslaught of punches. Terry’s brutal power had him backed up against the ropes, each hit stronger than the last. A low hit to his kidney had him staggering away, the referee jumping in to hold Terry off with a warning.

“This the fighter I keep hearing about? The fucking wonder kid?” Terry shouted. “He’s nothing but a scared little faggot! Can’t even fight his old fucking man!”

“Mick,” Ian pleaded, rushing to Antonne’s side. “Mick, look at me.”

Instead of focusing on the voice that always calmed him, Mickey rose to his feet only for Terry to knock him back down with three forceful hits to his head. As he rolled onto his back on the floor, the referee started his countdown. He looked over at his sister and saw the tears in her eyes as she looked away before his eyes fell on Ian again. The words he was shouting finally registered as he blinked his eyes into focus.

“Mickey, get up!” Ian begged. “That fucking piece of shit ain’t better than you! He’s nothing, Mickey. He’s nothing. You’re fucking everything. You’ve got the biggest fucking heart I know. You love with everything inside you. I love you, Mick. Get up! Don’t let him fucking do this to you!”

Hearing the countdown winding down, he pushed himself back to his feet and gave a nod at the referee. Holding his fists in the air, he repeated Ian’s words inside his head.

_He’s nothing. You’re fucking everything._

Terry turned around with a poisoned laugh. “You want more? Want me to pound your fucking head in?”

_I love you, Mick. I love you._

“I’ll hit you so Goddamn hard you won’t ever walk straight again!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Mickey finally shouted, his voice loud enough to make an impact over the loud jeers from Terry’s side of the crowd. “Shut the fuck up and fight, you lowlife piece of shit!”

Angered by the words, Terry lunged forward but Mickey found his footing and leapt away, throwing two jabs at his Father’s side as he went. The hits took Terry by surprise as he whirled back around, face morphed into untamed rage. They jumped forward in the middle, gloves clashing until Mickey threw a lead uppercut, lead hook, jab, jab, jab. Terry stumbled back against the ropes and Mickey took the advantage, throwing four more speedy jabs and a straight hook. Growling through his fury, Terry threw his gloves in the air and shoved his son back, using his hold to force Mikey towards the opposite end of the ring.

“You fucking faggot! I’ll fucking kill you!” Terry screamed, his punch colliding with the side of Mickey’s head.

Staggering backwards, Mickey whirled around when Terry punched him again. The moment he hit the ground, Terry lunged forward and grabbed his head, smashing it down to the sound of cries from the crowd around them. As Mickey closed his eyes from the shooting pain, black spots blurring his vision, Antonne jumped through the ropes and pushed Terry back with the ref. The shouts were loud but all Mickey felt was the sharp pain at the back of his head. Through the rowdy commotion, he heard a single voice reach out to him. Tilting to the side, he saw Ian stare at him through the ropes, eyes red and wet with worried tears. Joe and Clyde were halfway across the gym as Lip stepped towards his brother, everything moving in slow motion.

“Mick, please, get up and finish him or fucking stay down,” Ian pleaded. “I can’t watch this shit anymore!”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Mickey groaned as he rolled onto his knees and pushed himself back to his feet. Stumbling back a step, he blinked through his dizziness until his eyes were focused on the man across him. The man who had been a sperm donor in his creation and nothing more than a terror ever since. The man who had hurt and abused him, taking away the innocence of his childhood, forcing him into a life of crime he never wanted. The man who shared his name but bared no resemblance to Mickey in any other way. Their eyes met across the ring and Mickey made a decision. No more would he let Terry dictate his life, how he felt or reacted to the world around him. No more would Terry hold any power over him. He was done, once and for all, with the man he hated more than anything.

“You’re not gonna fucking hit me again,” he said, the venom behind his words enough to silence the noisy crowd.

Antonne rushed over but Mickey waved him away and turned to the referee.

“Let the fight continue. I’m good.”

“Mickey, that was a dirty foul. You could have a concussion,” Antonne tried to reason.

“Let me at him,” Mickey muttered, the rage he felt vibrating beneath his skin.

Running a helpless hand through his hair, Antonne gave the referee a nod and left the ring. Terry’s lips curved into another wicked smile as they circled around each other.

“You think you can take me?” he cackled. “You fucking pillow-biter.”

“Call me that again! Call me a queer, call me a faggot or whatever fucked up insult your brainless fucking head comes up with!” Mickey spat.

Lunging forward, the speed of his punch knocked Terry backwards against the ropes. Lead uppercut, lead hook, four jabs. As Terry raised his hands against the onslaught, Mickey threw a lead hook, straight hook, lead hook and six quick jabs. Terry stumbled away to catch his breath but Mickey let the adrenaline carry him. Four more jabs and three straight hooks had Terry struggling.

“You piece of shit!” Mickey shouted, three more jabs and another lead uppercut. “Fuck you!”

With blood slipping out the corner of his mouth, Terry raised his tired arms and threw a punch that landed in the air. Mickey grabbed his arm and threw a straight punch, his grip not letting Terry get far before he threw another punch and then a third. A final jab had Terry collapsing to the ground, Mickey dropping to his knees beside him.

“Fuck you!” he shouted, voice pained as he threw another punch at Terry’s head. “Fuck you! Fuck you!”

Three more hits and he was pulled away from Terry’s bloodied mess. The referee let him go to move to the fallen man and Mickey stumbled backwards. Just as his legs began to crumble, Ian was behind him, holding him upwards, tight against his chest.

“You did it, Mick,” he whispered, lips pressed against his cheek. “Mick, you did it. It’s over.”

They fell back against the ropes as Mickey gave in to exhaustion. All he managed was to turn around before he fell into Ian’s arms, breathing hoarse as his heartbeat ticked wildly in his chest. Ian held him in a strong embrace, not caring for the blood that stained his own skin. The crowd on their end cheered as the other side watched in shocked silence.

“Holy shit,” Lip exclaimed, turning towards a stunned Kev and V. “That was fucking brutal.”

Ian heard the words but made no movement, holding Mickey tight in his arms. He watched as Antonne shouted at Terry’s friends to get him out of there. As two of the men lifted him onto his feet, Terry turned around and stared at the back of his son’s head for a silent moment. His eyes were dark as he regarded him but his friends urged him towards the ropes before the large group disappeared through the entrance.

“You did it,” Ian repeated when they finally pulled away.

“Fuck,” Mickey groaned, throwing his gloves to the ground as he grabbed the back of his head. “Fucker hit me hard.”

“Mickey,” Antonne cut in. “You got hit pretty good, might have a concussion. You need to get yourself checked out.”

“Nothing that some hard liquor and a shower won’t fix,” Mickey grumbled.

“It’s not a suggestion,” Antonne shook his head and turned to Ian. “A friend of mine, Luanne, she’s a nurse at South Shore Hospital. She’ll get you in without too much of a wait.”

Mickey gave a slow nod just as Clyde offered his jacket to him through the ropes. Lifting his sore arms, he wore the thick material with a groan. When he tried to walk on his own, Ian’s glare made him role his eyes but he finally gave in. They moved out of the ring and through the crowd of people applauding his success. Stopping a few feet past the seats, Mickey turned around and looked for his sister through the faces. When their eyes locked, Mandy rushed over, eyes red with fury.

“I could kill you!” she snapped. “Mickey, that was so stupid. _He_ could have killed you!”

Her words made the group around them silent as Kev and V shared a look with Lip. Swallowing hard, Mickey turned towards his sister.

“He didn’t.”

She took a ragged breath and tossed her arms around him. When he groaned at the tight embrace, she pulled back and angrily wiped her face.

“Go get your head checked. I’ll kill you later.”

Ian took his arm again but Mickey held a hand out to stop him. Needing to walk out on his own after what had happened, he took a breath of fresh air and slowly made his way towards the car. Once he was buckled inside and Ian had sped away from the curb, he twirled his head around to watch his driver in silence.

“You gonna say anything?”

He could see the emotions playing out on Ian’s face until the fatigue won out. “How did it feel?”

“Fucking awesome,” Mickey said, laughing at his own words before groaning when the movement made the pain in his head worsen.

The rest of the drive was made in silence, as Mickey stared outside the window, Ian’s hand gripped between his own. When they finally parked the car and walked inside the hospital, the emergency room was halfway filled with patients. Stepping up to the free counter, Ian stared at the administrative nurse for a brief moment.

“Is Luanne here?”

The woman gave him a once over before pointing him to the desk on her left. They moved to the second window and a young nurse greeted them with a smile.

“Hey, my name is Ian. This is Mickey. We’re friends of Antonne,” he started, watching as the nurse nodded in recognition. “Mickey’s a boxer. He got hit in the head pretty bad tonight. Antonne wanted us to get him checked out.”

“I can answer for myself, you know,” Mickey grumbled.

They shared a glare before they turned back to an amused Luanne. She pulled up her screen and typed for several seconds until she reached the application.

“What’s your name?”

“Mickey Milkovich,” he said, reaching into his wallet to hand her his driver’s license.

“Oh, you must be that new boxer Antonne is training,” she smiled. “He’s mentioned you a couple times, all proud and excited. Says you got a lot of talent.”

“I’ll send him a fruit basket,” Mickey snorted.

She laughed at his comment and slid the ID back to him. Once the rest of the questions and paperwork was done, she printed a nametag and slipped it around his wrist.

“The Doctor will probably want to get you in for a CT scan. It’s not too busy tonight. Have a seat and I’ll get you inside in a couple minutes.”

They slowly made their way to the waiting room, falling into two chairs at the back. Taking a deep breath, Mickey leaned his head against the wall, blinking through the pain.

“How are you feeling?” Ian asked, voice quiet to keep their conversation private.

“Will feel a lot better when we’re in bed,” he sighed. “Fucker got me good, didn’t he?”

The silence made Mickey turn his head to the side to regard him. Ian was staring down at his hands, clasped over his own lap, fingers twitching. Mickey could feel the need Ian had to reach out and hold his hand. Before he could give him the comfort he needed, Luanne walked over and waved them through.

“Shit, you do work fast,” Mickey grunted.

She laughed as she led them through the hallway. “It just happens that the other patients waiting tonight are not too serious. You may have a concussion so that trumps runny noses and bad headaches.”

Opening a door to one of the room, she waved them inside and shut it behind her as she left. Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, Mickey watched as Ian turned towards the chair and threw his hand out to step him.

“Come here.”

Moving closer, Ian stepped between Mickey’s open legs and all but fell against his chest. Slowly lifting his arms, Mickey wrapped himself around him, letting Ian take the comfort he needed from the embrace. They stayed locked together as the minutes ticked by, neither wanting to pull away. When the door opened and the Doctor walked in, Ian started moving but Mickey held his hand to keep him at his side. The small smile on Ian’s face was enough to tell Mickey he made the right decision.

“Mr. Milkovich, hello. I’m Dr. Warner. Says here that you’re a boxer and you got knocked badly in your head tonight.”

“Yeah, he bashed me in pretty good. Knocked my head on the ground inside the ring,” Mickey replied.

The Doctor nodded and turned towards Ian. “And your relation to Mr. Milkovich?”

“His husband.”

They shared a look as the Doctor smiled and wheeled over on his stool.

“Have you had any weakness on one side of your face or body? Any trouble speaking? Any hearing loss or reduced vision? Seizures? Repeated vomiting?”

“No to all that shit,” Mickey muttered. “Was a bit dizzy before but my head just hurts like hell.”

Dr. Warner completed the rest of his exam, checking his hearing, vision, reflexes, balance and coordination. When he finally pressed against the back of Mickey’s head, the resulting groan had him pull away.

“Alright, I’d like to get you in for a CT scan. Check for any damage against your skull and brain,” he explained. “We just got the third machine up and running an hour ago so the wait time should be very minimal. I’ll have a nurse take you in. It’s just down the hall so your husband can wait here for you to finish.”

With a nod, the Doctor opened the door and gave directions to a nurse at the waiting station. Ian gave a smile and watched as they led Mickey down the hallway. Once the door was shut, Ian fell back against the wall and let the panic he had felt earlier surface. Closing his eyes, he tapped his head backwards, fisting his hands at his sides to keep his tears hidden. When the doors finally opened again, he was unsure how much time had passed.

“Hey,” Mickey’s voice cut through his thoughts and he snapped his eyes open. “Doc says we can go.”

On cue, Dr. Warner stepped in the room, file tight in his hands. “The CT scan was clean. There were no signs of swelling, bleeding in the brain or fracture to the cranium. I’ll give a prescription for a mild pain reliever you can get at the pharmacy down the hall.”

He slid the paper over and looked at Mickey.

“You need rest and lots of it. Make sure you have fluids, avoid driving for the next couple days and no strenuous activity,” he explained. “Avoid drinking because it can slow your recovery which normally lasts about a week with mild concussions. Keep an eye on your symptoms. If you have any more dizziness, nausea, sudden swelling, come back to the emergency room.”

“The nurse was freaked out when she saw the dry blood,” Mickey snorted once the Doctor had left, zipping his jacket up his chest.

Ian stayed quiet as he walked around to open the door. They slipped outside and made their way to the pharmacy. With the Tylenol in hand minutes later, they climbed inside the car and began driving home. Neither spoke, the silence a source of comfort between them.

When they finally walked inside the apartment, Mickey’s face was bruised, dark circle under his left eye and his upper lip split open. Ben shot to his feet from the couch, his smile vanishing when he saw their appearance.

“You should’ve seen the other guy,” Mickey said, moving past him towards the bathroom and locking himself inside.

“What happened?” Ben asked, looking back at Ian who sighed.

“He fought his Dad,” Ian explained, tossing his keys on the kitchen counter. “Went about as good as expected.”

“Did he win?”

“Yeah, Mickey won,” Ian nodded, eyes sad as he looked up. “You get in here okay?”

“Yeah,” Ben spoke quietly. “Look, if you want me to go…”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” Ian frowned. “I’m gonna check in on him and then we’ll head to bed. The spare pillows and blankets are in the hallway closet. Feel free to eat whatever you want from the kitchen.”

Turning away, Ian left a quiet Ben behind as he walked towards the bathroom. Hearing the sound of the faucet, he swung the door open. The image he saw broke his heart into pieces. Mickey was standing at the sink, hands gripping either side, staring at his own reflection. His body was shaking, tears welled in his eyes.

“Mick,” Ian whispered, shutting the door and quickly wrapping him up in his arms from behind. “It’s over, Mick. That fucking asshole is done.”

Mickey shut his eyes and lowered his head, lifting his hands to bury his face against them. They stayed locked together for several seconds, the only sound coming from the running faucet. When the tremble had finally left him, Mickey pushed back against Ian’s body and took a deep breath.

“Too fucking tired to shower. Can we just go to bed?”

Ian pressed a kiss to his shoulder and reached for a towel. Wetting the edge, he turned Mickey around and ran the towel across his face, gentle in his movements. When most of the dry blood had been cleaned away, he wiped his own face and rinsed his hands before tossing the towel away. Leading them towards their bedroom, he closed the door and helped Mickey onto his side. Throwing his jacket to the ground, Ian slid in behind him and wrapped an arm around his waist. Their ringed hands laced together in the darkness, pressed over Mickey’s beating heart.

“I’m okay,” Mickey said after a few minutes.

Closing his eyes, Ian inhaled against his skin, letting the comforting scent soothe his fears away. They held each other even tighter, no other words needed between them.


	16. Author's Note

Note:

Just wanted to mention that I have an outline of how this story will end. It can go one of two ways.

1) No more major conflicts and the story will end fairly soon

2) One more major conflict happens and the story will end a bit later. Stories normally have 3 major conflicts and we've been through 2 :)

You guys have been so great with all the comments so just wondering if anyone had any thoughts. I know the last chapter was a bit brutal.


	17. SIXTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the feedback. Hope you enjoy how this story wraps up in the next few chapters :)

*****

The first thing Mickey felt as he slipped back into consciousness was a kiss against his shoulder. The lips were gentle in their touch, moving across his skin towards his throat. Moaning quietly at the warmth that was spreading, he reached a hand behind him and caressed his fingers down Ian’s spine, stopping at the back of his upper thigh and squeezing. The resulting noise made Mickey push himself backwards, feeling the thick hardness pressing against him. He let his head roll back and felt a bite against his throat before another kiss soothed the small bruise that was beginning to form. Just as he started rocking his body against the heat, Ian pulled away, leaving nothing but a chill behind. Flipping onto his rear, Mickey stared up as Ian rose from the bed.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grumbled, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes.

“Gotta start breakfast,” Ian said, walking to the dresser and pulling a shirt out.

“You really gonna take your nine inches and leave me here to fend for my fucking self?”

Ian turned towards him with a glare before adjusting his pajamas. When he looked up, Mickey was on his feet, hands reaching out to tug him back.

“It’s fucking early,” he spoke quietly. “Get in bed.”

Ian felt his body react at his voice and let himself be dragged over. The moment their lips pressed together, he slipped his tongue inside the warm mouth, allowing himself a taste before he untangled from the hold and stepped away.

“I gotta get to the Center soon.”

The expression on Mickey’s face instantly morphed from blissed out to ticked off. They stared at one another for a tense moment before Mickey scoffed and fell backwards on the mattress.

“Guess it had to happen sometime.”

“Guess what had to happen?” Ian asked, frowning as he took a step towards the bed.

“You getting tired of fucking me,” Mickey muttered, flipping on his side and turning away.

“Where the fuck did you get that idea?” Ian snapped.

“Maybe ‘cause we haven’t fucked all week. The fuck else am I supposed to think?”

Moving around to the other side, Ian quickly sat down and leaned over. “No strenuous activity. You remember the Doc saying that?”

“He never said we couldn’t bang.”

“Mick,” Ian sighed. “You had a concussion. I don’t want you hurting.”

“You getting on me is the right kinda pain.”

Ian’s gaze softened as he leaned down, sliding a hand to the back of Mickey’s neck to hold his head steady. “I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m fine, Ian,” Mickey spoke quietly.

Their mouths found each other without another thought, a soft press of lips that made them both groan. Lowering himself all the way, Ian pulled one of Mickey’s legs over his own hips and moved closer. A jolt sparked between them when their groins touched, bodies rocking together without hurry, hands roaming freely over every inch of skin they could find.

“I love you,” Ian whispered, tilting Mickey’s head back to leave kisses across his throat.

Mickey grabbed his face and yanked him up, their eyes locking with a snap. They watched each other closely, a world of words exchanged in the lingering silence.

“I love you,” Ian repeated, the smile finally reaching his eyes.

He moved until he was covering Mickey’s body with his own. Trailing a hand down between them, he slipped into Mickey’s shorts, long fingers gripping him hard. When Mickey tilted his head back and dropped his legs open, Ian made a noise and crashed their lips together. Their tongues met in the middle, no longer gentle or slow. Pressing his free hand to the back of Mickey’s neck, he held him in place and devoured the mouth that was glued against his own. Just as the intensity began to deepen, a quiet knock sounded on their door from outside.

“Morning, guys,” Ben’s voice was like a bucket of ice. “I started breakfast in case you’re hungry.”

“Fuck my life,” Mickey muttered, falling back against the pillow as Ian laughed above him.

The second knock was more insistent, loud enough that they frowned towards the door. When the third knock became a pound, Ian rolled off the bed and yanked it open. Mandy was standing on the other side, waving at them with a gleam in her eyes.

“You guys done fucking?” she asked. “Some of us would like to have breakfast now.”

Smirking at their disheveled state, she whirled around and walked towards the kitchen. With a quiet laugh, Ian turned back around to see Mickey rising from the bed.

“My fucking sister. Biggest mood killer around,” he muttered, pulling his jeans off the chair and dragging them on.

A pair of arms suddenly wrapped him up into a hug from behind and he helplessly fell back against the warm chest.

“I’ll make it up to you tonight,” Ian promised, leaving a final kiss on his shoulder.

“Food!” Mandy’s scream echoed off the walls.

Reluctantly pulling away, they took turns in the bathroom and getting dressed before making their way to the kitchen. Mandy was standing beside the small table, rapping her nails on the counter with a brow raised in annoyance.

“You can slam the door on her face next time,” Mickey said to Ben as he took a seat.

With a wicked smirk, she dropped herself in her brother’s lap, the move making him stumble backwards in his chair before he tossed a glare in her direction.

“Love you too, Mick.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck you back, asshole.”

“Jerkface.”

“Dipshit.”

The glare intensified for a heated moment as Ben stared between the two. The anger disappeared as quickly as it came and Mandy moved to her own seat.

“They always like this?” Ben asked, looking up at Ian who was smiling fondly.

“You get used to it,” Ian shrugged. “It may not always seem like it, but there’s a lot of love between them.”

“No, there isn’t! I fucking hate him!” Mandy snorted.

“The feeling’s fucking mutual!”

“Like I said, you’ll get used to it,” Ian chuckled, taking the seat next to Mickey.

Plates of bacon, eggs and toast were scattered across the table, juice and coffee added on the side. Reaching for a slice of bacon, Mickey took a large bite and groaned as he swallowed.

“Fuck, kid, you cook this yourself?”

“Yeah, is it alright?” Ben asked, looking up nervously.

“It’s fucking awesome!” Mickey grinned. “Used to eating shit that tastes like cardboard around here.”

“Hey!” Ian said, whirling towards him. “The fuck, Mick? I'm the one that does most the cooking.”

Mickey widened his eyes and turned to Ben who chuckled under his breath.

“You telling me I can’t cook?” Ian demanded, arms crossed in offense. “You’re not exactly shy about my pasta. Fucking inhale that shit.”

“‘Cause that’s the only fucking thing you cook that doesn’t suck!”

“At least I can cook _that_ much. You don’t even know what the fuck pots and pans are!” Ian snapped, reaching for his coffee with an angry huff.

“Are _they_ always like this?” Ben directed his question to Mandy this time.

“You’ll get used to them,” she smirked, repeating Ian’s words. “It may not always seem like it, but there’s a lot of love between them deep down.”

Ian’s anger instantly faded as he pulled his chair closer to his husband. Spreading an arm over Mickey’s shoulders, he pulled him in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Instead of shoving him away, Mickey rolled his eyes fondly and squeezed his hand for a quick moment. When both started in on their breakfast, they stayed close beside each other, Ian’s arm still wrapped around him.

“That just fucking backfired,” Mandy muttered.

Ben looked around the table with thoughtful eyes, a small smile curving his lips as he regarded them one by one. Smile growing wide, he leaned in and started in on his own breakfast.

Mandy swallowed her bite of toast and looked up. “What do you guys have planned for today?”

“Ben and I have to go to the Center in a bit. We’re helping organize a talent show for all the kids,” Ian said, taking a sip of his juice as he reached for the first of three pills.

“How about you, shitface?” Mandy asked her brother.

“Doc said I can’t box for a couple weeks and Antonne’s been a hardass enforcing the fucking thing,” Mickey said, reaching for Ian’s half drank cup of coffee and chugging it down.

He sat back and watched Ian finish his pills with one hand, other arm still stretched over Mickey’s shoulders. When the last pill was done, they turned to one another and shared a private smile. Mandy glanced over at Ben and saw him watching the small moment with hopeful eyes. Caught staring, the teen quickly looked away.

“So lots of rest and not a whole lot of nothing else?” she asked, turning back to her brother. “Lucky for you, I’m here to entertain.”

“Don’t you have a fucking job?” he groaned but she raised her brow in challenge, forcing him to give in with a huff. “We ain’t leaving the fucking apartment.”

Her grin spoke volumes as she sat back and finished her breakfast. The rest of the meal was mostly quiet apart from Ian leaning over every couple minutes to press a kiss to Mickey’s shoulder.

When Ian was dressed and ready to go thirty minutes later, he pulled Mickey against him inside their bedroom, spinning him around to push him up against the wall.

“Now you wanna fuck?” Mickey snorted but his lower body sang a different tune.

“Tonight,” Ian promised, hands rough as they dragged Mickey’s face to his own.

The kiss was hard, a clash of teeth and tongues that left them both breathing hard. Separating their lips, they stared at one another for a heated moment before Ian wrapped his arms around him. The sudden change in mood was jarring but Mickey let the squeeze continue, raising his own arms to return the hug. The silence stretched for several seconds, neither willing to break the hold.

“Go easy,” Ian finally said, leaving a lingering kiss before he untangled himself and walked out of the apartment with Ben.

When the door shut behind them, Mickey fell back against the wall with a heavy sigh. Sensing Mandy’s presence at the door, he looked over and saw that all her humor was gone.

“He’s been all over the fucking place since the fight,” he finally said, moving towards the couch as Mandy sat on the cushion to his side.

“It scared him,” she spoke in a hushed tone. “When Terry bashed your head against the ground, he was terrified. It fucking scared everyone.”

He looked over at his sister and saw a shake move through her body.

“It sucked watching that, Mick,” she said, turning her gaze towards him. “For a moment, I thought…”

“Fuck, I thought it too,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But you get why?”

“I do,” she nodded, eyes glazing over.

Leaning forward, Mandy pressed her forehead against his shoulder. The moment was quiet, neither needing words to fill the silence.

“Think he’ll leave us alone now?” she asked, tilting her face up towards his.

“Who the fuck knows,” he shrugged. “He always turns up like a fucking roach from hell.”

They snorted at the words and the somber mood was instantly gone.

“So I got a question for you,” she changed the topic, leaning back with a bright smile. “What’d you get Ian?”

“Get him? For what? Ain’t his birthday,” he frowned.

“As a wedding gift, you idiot,” she chuckled. “When people get married, they exchange gifts with one another.”

He watched her for a moment and scoffed. “You just made that shit up.”

“No, I didn’t!” she exclaimed. “Ian’s getting _you_ a gift.”

“What? When? What’s he getting?”

“Calm down, Princess,” she laughed and promptly ignored the finger he raised towards her. “He’ll probably get it for you today after your little ‘oh, you haven’t fucked me in a week’ meltdown.”

“You listen at the fucking door?” he muttered. “Next time, I’ll make him give it to me good and hard and fucking scar you for life!”

She cackled at his words and jumped to her feet. “Get your ass up. We’re going to the mall.”

He groaned as she pushed him through the door and cursed when they climbed into Mandy’s yellow beetle bug.

“What the fuck about you matches this car?” he asked, waving his hand around the vehicle as she pulled away from the curb.

“I’m a ray of fucking sunshine, Mickey,” she grinned but the slow moving car up front made her roll the window down and shove her head out. “Learn how to fucking drive, asshole!”

Mickey watched as she changed lanes and sped up next to the blonde driving in the other car. They shared a glare before Mandy threw a finger out the window and cut the other girl off.

“Total ray of sunshine,” Mickey snorted.

  
********  
  


Ian rolled back on his heels, hands digging deep inside his pockets as he waited. After dropping Ben off at the Center, he’d driven midway across town. Standing outside the shop he’d made an appointment with, he leaned his head back against the building and looked up at the morning sky. Ever since the fight with Terry, Ian had been on edge. He’d tried his best to keep his feelings hidden from everyone else, but deep down, he had been terrified. Seeing Terry smash Mickey’s head against the floor was a moment Ian knew he could never forget. His heart had been inside his throat throughout the fight and he remembered having half a mind to jump inside the ring and help Mickey take Terry out like that infamous night at the Alibi.

Watching Mickey box stirred a mixture of different feelings inside him. He loved the confidence Mickey gained every time he stepped inside the ring. It was a healthy way for Mickey to unleash the often muted anger he had inside him. A sport where it was legal to hit the other guy. But on the underside, watching Mickey take punch after punch felt like Ian was the one standing inside the ring. It hurt to watch Mickey get hit and nothing hurt more than seeing Terry do it to his own son. But he promised to keep his feelings to himself. Mickey was doing something that he loved, being praised for something he was good at and building a confidence within him that for years, he sorely lacked. Ian loved him too much to speak against it.

But hearing the insecurity in Mickey’s voice that morning had broken Ian’s heart. He had been scared all week, flashes of the fight going through his mind mixed with the Doctor’s words. He was so afraid of hurting Mickey even further that he’d distanced himself, not realizing the distance was causing even more harm. Running a hand through his hair, he reminded himself that the fight with Terry was done. Mickey had been cleared by the Doctor and Terry was gone from their lives. With that thought in mind, he had left the apartment that morning and decided to get the wedding present that had been on his mind. A smile curved his lips as he thought of Mickey’s reaction, hoping it would be a positive one.

“Earth to Ian.”

Looking up, he smiled as he watched Lip toss his smoke to the ground and walk over. They gave each other a nod and Lip peered over Ian’s shoulder to the shop they were standing beside.

“You sure you wanna do this? Kinda permanent, no?”

“More permanent than this?” Ian asked, lifting his ringed hand.

“Got me there,” Lip chuckled. “Why am I here? To convince you out of it? Or hold your hand while you cry like a little girl?”

Smacking his brother’s shoulder, Ian dragged the door open and pushed him inside. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through and followed.

  
********  
  


Mickey dragged his feet as Mandy yanked him through the doors. Stopping at the information stand, she skimmed through the list of shops and whirled around.

“Which shop do you want to hit first?”

“How about none?” he muttered, glancing around them at the busy mall. “Fuck, Mandy, I already hate this place.”

“You’ve never been shopping before! You have no idea what you’re missing out on.”

Raising his brows, he pointed at an exhausted woman as she dragged her three screaming toddlers behind her. Down the hall, a group of teens threw popcorn at each other. To their left, an old couple bickered about the noise. On their right, a man decked in expensive clothes gave a smug smile to everyone who watched him stroll with his eye candy girlfriend on his arm.

“Think I’m good missing out on all this shit.”

She rolled her eyes in annoyance and grabbed his arm, steering him towards the center pavilion. Leaning on the railing next to an elderly couple, Mandy glanced around them at the stores visible to the eye.

“Can we seriously fucking go? Not gonna find shit in here."

“Would you just give it a chance?” she huffed. “He’s getting you something really good. Don’t you want to do the same?”

“Would you fucking spill already?”

They heard a squeak beside them and looked over to see the elderly woman turning away with a blush. Grinning playfully, Mandy crossed her arms and stepped closer.

“I mean, personally, I think you should go for some kinky sex toys.”

“Oh my!” the woman exclaimed.

She blushed even brighter and grabbed her oblivious husband’s arm, steering him away from the ledge.

“Scarring old ladies, that your new task in life?” he grumbled.

“I was trying to embarrass _you_ , douchebag.”

Before another fight could erupt between them, Svetlana walked up in her Stilettos, brushing her hair behind her shoulder. She leaned forward and gave Mandy a quick hug before grabbing Mickey’s chin and tilting it from side to side. He batted her hand away and she raised a brow.

“Piece of shit Father is finished? You beat him?”

“Yeah, I fucking beat him,” he muttered.

“Good, he deserve,” Lana nodded. “He was lazy fuck in bed and terrible man.”

“Can we seriously not talk about you fucking Terry?” Mickey groaned. “It’s still so fucking wrong.”

“Yeah, I’m with him on that,” Mandy nodded.

Svetlana swore in Russian before a smile curved her lips. “Yevgeny is on play date with neighbour and two sons. I am here to help you buy gift for husband.”

She stood between them and looped her arms through theirs, leading them down the corridor towards a Gap. One look at the cardigans on display and Mickey yanked them down the hall. Six stores that followed had the same styles on display.

“You fucking kidding me? Bow ties? Sweater vests?” he whined as they made their way towards the scattered benches.

Svetlana opened her mouth to argue until her eyes caught on two older women watching them with disdain from the bench to their right. She followed their gaze to Mickey’s knuckle tattoos and narrowed her gaze.

“I think I know what you should buy,” she started, whirling back towards him. “A dildo.”

“The fuck?” Mickey snapped, brows furrowed.

Mandy threw her head back and laughed at the suggestion. Svetlana glanced from the corner of her eyes to see the women watching them in mock offense but the blushes on their faces told a different story.

“Maybe a big dick?” she continued, tossing her hair over her shoulder again. “Hairy dick? Smooth dick? Chubby one?”

“Would you fucking stop!” he hissed.

Mandy quickly caught on to the two women watching them and smirked as she turned to her brother. “That’s right, you don’t need a dildo ‘cause your husband gives it to you good and hard every time. Something I bet you ladies know nothing about!”

The women turned bright red and quickly shuffled away from the benches. Sharing a satisfied smile, Mandy and Lana turned back to Mickey who was watching them with narrowed eyes.

“I fucking hate you both.”

Before he could turn around and leave, Mandy’s face morphed into a sudden frown.

“Mick, your nose,” she pointed, reaching for a tissue in her purse.

He swiped the Kleenex under his nose and came away with a shot of blood. Holding it against his nostril, he took a breath and pressed it up high. When he pulled back a second time, the blood had started caking over. He saw their worried looks and balled the Kleenex up, tossing it in the trash bin to his side.

“Never seen a fucking nosebleed before?”

“Doctor said all was good?” Svetlana questioned.

“I’m fine,” he said, trying his best to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Getting cold out. Sinuses and shit.”

Svetlana gave a nod and Mandy looked past his shoulder. Grinning wildly, she reached over and grabbed his arm. Pointing to the furthest bench, they looked over at two elderly men in their eighties, bickering with one another while their hands stayed laced between their bodies.

“Mick, that’s you and Ian!” Mandy laughed, lifting her chin over his shoulder from behind. “Can’t you see it?”

“Fuck off,” he grumbled but she reached for his arm and pulled him back towards her.

When he saw the soft look in her eyes, his shoulders finally dropped.

“Fifty years from now, you and Ian still bugging the shit outta each other but holding hands, all sweet like that,” she smiled, her voice growing quiet. “You deserve that, Mick.”

He looked down at her words but his eyes fell on the two men for a second time. When he looked closer, he saw the rings shining on their fingers and glanced down at his own. The smile that curved his lips came without choice. Every time he looked at the ring, his heartbeat would tick wilder than the last. Everything he and Ian had been through, all the anger, resentment, disappointment and bitterness but also want and desire. Loyalty. Longing. A desperate need to be with one another. Love.

Who he was ten years ago never would have pictured himself standing in a crowded mall, wedding band on his finger, thinking of a present to surprise his husband with that night. Who he was ten years ago never would have pictured himself wanting to curl up in bed with the man he loved so fully, without pause. Seeing the affection in Ian’s eyes every day had proved a point that Mickey had been telling himself. All the fight had been worth it, all the heartache and pain. It had brought them to that moment, married and together, committed for life.

“I know what to get,” he suddenly said. 

  
********  
  


Groaning in discomfort, Ian took a deep breath and followed Molly and Nia from the car. Moving down the sidewalk, away from the traffic and congestion of the main road, they stopped in front of a building set several meters behind with a large playground fenced to the right. Grabbing the master key, Molly unlocked the door and led them inside. Switching the light on, they glanced around themselves at the open space. A long corridor veered from the left towards the offices. On the right was a decent cafeteria, an arts and crafts room situated next to that. A common room was at the very end, cables coming out of the wall where a television would eventually go. The double doors opposite the main entrance led to the courtyard out back, fenced off like the playground, surrounded by trees going around.

“This used to be a preschool,” Molly started, leading them through the building. “It shut down about a year ago and the City has been trying to find a better use for it since. I finally convinced them that this could be our second location.”

“Molly, it’s perfect,” Ian said, eyes scanning the dusty artwork pinned to the walls. “As long as the basics are still good, plumbing, electric and all that, I don’t think it needs much work.”

“Just a thorough dusting,” Nia added with a laugh as she turned towards her friends. “But Ian’s right. It’s perfect, Molly.”

With a wide smile, Molly led them outside to the courtyard. “They gave a small budget to get the place up and running. We’ll go over all the financials when we get back to the Center. The City has their own inspectors coming in to make sure all the basics are good but how it’s decorated, what goes where, that’s all on you guys.”

“Damn,” Nia chuckled. “Thank you for believing in us.”

“Oh, enough of that!” Molly exclaimed, pulling her friend into a hug.

They both opened their arms for Ian to join and he laughed as he took a step forward. Suddenly remembering where he had been earlier, he froze and gave a sheepish shrug. They smirked in understanding and hugged one another again. Leaving their side, Ian walked back inside the building, picturing the different spaces full of furniture and kids running around. He saw Ben sitting in the crafts room, teaching the younger kids how to draw. Moving towards the offices, he walked into the first one and smiled at the old desk and chair pushed to the corner wall, a dusty bookshelf behind it and a large, worn in leather sofa on the opposite side. Biting his lip, he pictured him and Mickey sitting on the couch, stealing kisses as they talked. Shaking his head at his own corniness, he pressed a hand over his chest and smiled.

  
********  
  


Walking inside the apartment with two boxes of pizza hours later, Ian shut the door and grinned when he saw Mickey sitting next to Ben on the couch, open books scattered around them.

“You get the fucking food?” Mickey called without turning around.

Walking over, Ian pulled Mickey’s head backwards and kissed his mouth. “Two pepperoni pizzas as requested. You guys done your homework?”

Mickey tossed a finger in the air that made Ian laugh as he moved to set the pizzas on the counter.

“Thanks for that tip, Mickey,” Ben said as he shut his book. “Used to fucking hate math but the way you said it makes so much sense.”

Patting the teen’s shoulder in reply, Mickey cleared up the rest of the books before they walked to the kitchen. Seeing the sweet smile waiting for him, he made a face that had Ian holding his hands up in a surrender.

“How was the new place?” he finally asked after his first slice had been done.

Lowering his pop to the counter, Ian swallowed and leaned against him. “Place was everything I pictured. Needs to be cleaned and shit but when we’re finished, it’ll be fucking perfect.”

“Think I can come by and hang around?” Ben asked.

“Who else is gonna help the kids in art class?” Ian said with a wink.

Ben’s smile was bright as he grabbed two more slices and moved towards the couch to switch the television on. Finishing his final slice, Ian pressed his back against the counter and pulled Mickey between his legs.

“What did you and Mandy do all day besides kill each other?”

“She dragged me to the fucking mall,” Mickey muttered, his glare deepening when Ian laughed.

“Sorry, just trying to picture you there with all the strollers and grandmas.”

“Fucking nightmare. Never going back,” he shuddered. “Took two fucking showers when I got home just to get the fucking stench off.”

Leaning in, Ian pressed his nose to Mickey’s throat and breathed him in. “You smell good now.”

They leaned back and looked at one another, the promise from that morning lingering in the air between them. With a nod that meant they understood, they cleaned up the counter and put the food inside the fridge.

“Kid, we’re turning in. Don’t stay up too late,” Mickey said before he froze. “Did I just fucking say that?”

Ben laughed at his frown as Ian threw an arm around his shoulders.

“Why are you so surprised? You’re great with Yev,” Ian reminded.

“And with me,” Ben added.

The room was quiet for several beats, the meaning behind the words loud and clear. Mickey watched the younger boy for a moment longer, seeing Ben lower his gaze from embarrassment of having said too much. Mickey of ten years ago would have laughed or brushed the comment off. Who he was now, a man no longer living in the terror of his Father’s shadow, he walked over to the couch and shoved Ben playfully to the side. They shared a smile before Mickey walked towards the bedroom, a grinning Ian following his footsteps. Once the door was locked, Ian yanked him back, grip around his body tight.

“You’re such a good guy, Mick,” he said, gaze carrying a sadness that surfaced from time to time. “There’s so many fucking reasons to hate Terry but one of them’s making you think you were never good enough. You are, Mick. Fuck, you’re everything.”

Leaning in, he closed the space between them and let their lips press with a gentle kiss. Opening his mouth, Ian slipped his tongue inside, tasting the addicting warmth of his mouth.

“Fuck, hold on,” Mickey said, ripping his lips away.

Ian made a noise and pulled him in again, hands framing the back of his head to keep their mouths welded together. Their tongues danced around each other as they kissed, small noises slipping out every time their pulled back for a breath of air.

“Don’t ever fucking think that I don’t want you,” Ian said, his voice rough as he buried one hand into Mickey’s hair. “I always want you. I always love you.”

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey groaned, arching his back when he felt Ian’s hand slip inside the back pocket of his jeans. “Hold the fuck on. I wanna give you something.”

Pulling away from one another, their lips were red and swollen, hairs disheveled messes. Walking backwards to the bed, Mickey pulled his jacket off, tossing it carelessly to the side. When he sat on the edge of the mattress and looked up, Ian was back between his legs, eyes glazed over as he lowered his face to devour his mouth for a second time. The kiss lasted longer than the last but when Ian started pushing him onto the mattress, Mickey yanked his lips free and chuckled.

“You fucking want me, I get it,” he smiled, panting as he pulled Ian down beside him. “Fucking Mandy, in all her brainless wisdom, thought going to the fucking mall would be a good idea.”

Ian laughed despite the heat that was running through his body. He pulled one of Mickey’s hands to his lap, holding the fingers between his own, not wanting to feel any separation between them. Smirking fondly at the move, Mickey reached inside the bedside stand and pulled a box out.

“She said married people get each other gifts or whatever,” he said, licking his lips nervously. “Fucking Terry ruined the party at the dugouts so I wanted to get something good, you know?”

“Did you get me jewelry, Mick?” Ian teased.

“Fuck off, no I didn’t!” he snapped. “Lana was there too. Kept dragging me to all these douchebag stores, fucking sweater vests and shit. Do they fucking know me at all by now?”

Ian laughed as he moved closer, pushing their heads together to steal another kiss.

“So I got you something,” Mickey spoke slowly when they leaned back, taking an extra few seconds to get his brain online. “If you fucking hate it, just say so. Don’t fucking lie.”

“Can I have my present now?” Ian cut him off.

Pulling his hand free, Mickey pushed the box towards him and sat back. When Ian raised the lid, he stared at the folded brochure in confusion. Pulling the slips of paper out, he read down the page and quickly looked up.

“Tickets?” he asked, his voice barely containing the emotions he felt. “Florida?”

“Always pictured us on the beach, the sun, fucking warm water,” Mickey shrugged. “Didn’t work with fucking Mexico. Figured this time would be different, you know?”

He chanced a glance to Ian’s eyes and blinked when he saw the shining gaze staring back.

“You wanna take me to the beach in Florida for our honeymoon?” Ian teased lightly.

“Fuck, yeah, I guess,” Mickey nodded. “You hate it?”

“You fucking kidding me?” Ian said, pushing Mickey onto the bed and climbing on top to straddle his thighs.

Dropping the tickets to the ground, Ian leaned down and laced their fingers together, lifting their locked hands to either side of Mickey’s head.

“I love it,” he finally said, closing the distance and letting their lips find one another.

The kiss was soft, a gentle press that embodied everything they felt. Untangling their hands, Ian lowered himself onto one elbow, his free hand roaming around the body that called to his own.

“I got you something too,” he said.

“You fucking better,” Mickey grinned before his mood shifted. “If you got a dildo, I’ll punch you in the fucking nuts.”

“Dildo?” Ian chuckled. “Why the fuck would I get you that?”

“Cause Lana thought it was a fucking funny idea to suggest a big, hairy dildo as a gift in the middle of the fucking crowd.”

Ian shook his head as he laughed at the words. When another thought entered his mind, he frowned and looked down.

“Only dick that’s ever going in you is mine, real or otherwise.”

“You and your possessive shit. Did you really just fucking say that?” Mickey chuckled, throwing an arm around his shoulder and wrestling him to the side.

They laughed as they grappled with one another until Mickey had him pinned to the mattress with a triumphant smile. Running his hands to the back of Mickey’s thighs, Ian sat up and pulled him closer.

“Always did think you looked perfect in my lap,” he smirked.

“Fuck off,” Mickey shook his head but the blush on his face was revealing. “Hurry the fuck up, Gallagher. What you get me?”

Taking a deep breath, Ian inched himself backwards and reached for the hem of his sweater. He hesitated a final moment before pulling the cloth off his body. The moment Mickey’s eyes landed on the square bandage over Ian’s chest, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“I got a tattoo,” Ian started.

Swallowing the nerves in his throat, he reached for Mickey’s shirt and helped him pull it off his body until their chests were bare together. Reaching forward, he ran his fingers over the spot where his name once sat. When Mickey had removed it after Mexico, Ian had understood. A ragged scar was the only thing that was left behind. Back inside the prison, they had been spooning in the lower bunk one night when Mickey had made a casual comment of getting another tattoo once he was out. He had mentioned getting Ian’s name done by a professional but never spoke of it again after that night. But the idea had stayed locked away in Ian’s mind, hoping for the day when they could fix that final wound between them.

Mickey stayed silent as Ian ran his fingers across the scar on his chest. He knew Ian could feel his heartbeat tick faster with every sweep of his thumb but he bit his lip and stayed quiet. The wound was another deep one, long forgotten, but never fully healed. His breath caught when he felt Ian lean in and press his mouth over the scar.

Leaning back, Ian brought his hands to the bandage and slowly peeled it off. When he tossed the gauze aside and looked up, Mickey’s eyes were glued on the markings over his heart, area red as the skin healed. Blinking the sudden wetness in his eyes, Mickey raised a hand, his fingers ghosting over the letters that he saw.

_M &I  
10/12/19_

“Day we got married,” he said when he found his voice again. “Fuck.”

Leaning backwards, he ran a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes open and shut to keep his emotions from spilling out.

“Do you hate it?” Ian asked quietly.

“Do I hate it?” Mickey said with a laugh. “Fuck, Ian, come here.”

They crashed their lips together, the kiss a frantic touch between them. Hands roaming across each other’s bodies, Mickey moved closer on his lap and rocked his hips down. Groaning at the feeling, Ian pushed his pants and shorts off his legs, making work of Mickey’s jeans a moment later. When their bodies were bare before each other, Ian spun them around until he had Mickey pinned beneath him. The lube was the next thing he grabbed and seconds later, he was thrusting inside the heat that felt like a second home. Their bodies joined together in the dim light, hands holding each other’s faces as they met their mouths in the middle. Rocking his hips with strong thrusts, Ian pushed himself as far as he could go, swallowing every quiet moan that Mickey made, both still conscious of the fact that Ben was just outside their door.

Lifting Mickey’s legs, Ian wrapped them around his waist and pounded harder, smiling when he felt his husband give in to the building desire without embarrassment or shame. The minutes ticked by as they moved together, the heat coiling inside them. Just as their chests pressed close and a slight pain coursed through him from the sensitivity around his tattoo, Ian pressed his lips to Mickey’s collarbone and left a bruising mark. The touch sent Mickey over the edge and Ian flying off behind him.

Heaving together, Mickey slowly lowered his legs one by one but kept his arms wrapped around Ian’s waist. With a few final shallow thrusts that had them both moaning, Ian slowly slipped out and fell to the side.

“Fuck,” Mickey panted.

“Fuck,” Ian repeated.

Their heads turned to each other and they shared a laugh. Rolling onto their sides, their lips found each other again, their kisses soft and tender.

“Can’t believe you fucking got that,” Mickey said, eyes falling back to the tattoo. “Can’t have you raising the stakes like that, Gallagher.”

“Mick, you’re taking us on a honeymoon to the beach,” Ian’s smile was lazy and blissed out. “You’re such a fucking romantic.”

“Says the guy with our initials and wedding date tattooed over his heart,” Mickey ribbed back.

“It’s you, Mick,” Ian said, inching forward to press their foreheads together. “Always been you.”

“I think we’ve said enough sappy romantic shit tonight to last a fucking lifetime,” Mickey smirked. “There were these two old dudes in the mall. Fucking Mandy said they looked like us. Holding hands and bickering. Fucking eighty years old.”

Reaching for the bandage, Ian covered his tattoo again and turned Mickey around so he could spoon him from behind.

“Gonna grow old together,” Ian grinned as their ringed hands tangled together below the sheets.

“If we don’t fucking kill each other first."

Laughing quietly, Ian pressed a final kiss to Mickey’s shoulder. Their eyes closed at the same time, their bodies wrapping in the warmth of each other.


	18. SEVENTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the home stretch now. Can't believe this story is almost ending :(

*****

Hearing a noise behind him, Mickey opened his eyes and blinked the sleep away before turning over in bed. Ian had his back towards him as he reached over to the nightstand, leaving the stretch of his back long and inviting. With a lazy grin, Mickey reached his hand out and ran his fingers up the spine, feeling Ian’s smile before the Ginger turned around.

“Morning,” Ian greeted, reaching down to press their lips together.

“What you doing awake? Ain’t it early?”

“Just grabbing my phone,” Ian said, lowering his arm under Mickey’s neck to pull him against his own chest.

Still half asleep, Mickey frowned as he watched Ian switch his phone on. The moment the camera booted, he made a noise and tried to pull away.

“Come here,” Ian laughed, keeping his grip tight as he pulled him back in.

“You seriously gonna take one of those cheesy couple photos?” Mickey groaned.

“Yeah I am because I wanna see it every time I switch my phone on,” Ian said, his smile softening as he pressed their foreheads together. “I want a background pic for my phone.”

Mickey tried to stay agitated but the smile eventually broke out on his face. Grinning happily, Ian pulled him back in and lifted the camera.

“Tell me to say cheese and I’ll punch you,” Mickey warned.

Laughing quietly, Ian closed his eyes and leaned in to press a kiss to Mickey’s cheek before taking the shot. Pulling the phone back down, he laid backwards on the mattress and pulled Mickey with him, heir heads pressed together as they looked at the photo. 

“Fuck, don’t show anyone that shit,” Mickey grumbled, closing his eyes and burying his face in Ian’s neck. “Not Mandy, not your brother, fucking no one.”

“Why? So they won’t know how soft you really are?” Ian asked, staring at the photo happily for another second before dropping the phone and turning them so he was lying on top. “Only I’m allowed to see that side of you?”

“You done being a dick?” Mickey glared.

“Not trying to be a dick,” Ian said, eyes gentle as he leaned down and breathed his scent. “Happy looks good on you, Mick.”

The words were spoken quietly and held a heaviness that both understood. There had been a time, years ago, when Mickey never would have believed the statement to be true. He never would have believed he deserved to hear those words or feel the meaning behind them. Pulling Ian’s face up to catch his eyes, he took a breath and lifted slightly to press their lips together. The tender moment stretched for another few seconds until Mickey pushed him off.

“Go wash up and let me get some fucking sleep,” he grumbled, pressing his head back against the pillow.

With a wide smile, Ian left another kiss on his shoulder before he disappeared in the bathroom. The moment he left, Mickey reached for the phone and switched the screen on. Staring at the photo they had taken, he couldn’t stop the small smile that filled his face. Not realizing how much time had passed, he finally put the phone down when a shadow fell over the bed. Ian’s smile was even wider as walked to the closet to sort through his clothes.

Rolling his eyes at the Ginger's smirk, Mickey climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he switched the faucet on and ran the cold water over his face. When he pulled his hands away, his fingers were stained, a line of blood running down his hand. Snapping his head up towards the mirror, he saw the blood coming down from his nose. He grabbed a stack of tissues and held it up against his nostril for a few seconds. Pulling the tissues away, he saw the blood had soaked through, a new drip sliding down his chin.

“Hey, you almost ready?” Ian’s voice came from outside.

Jumping back, he locked the door with his free hand. “I’m taking a fucking dump!”

“Why did I need to know that?” Ian’s amused tone sounded.

“Just gimme a minute!”

When he heard the receding footsteps, he moved back to the mirror and rolled a wad of tissues. Pinching his nose, he forced the paper into his nostril and leaned against the counter, the only sound coming from the open faucet. As he pulled the tissues out a couple minutes later, he felt the dried blood at the edge of his nose and took a breath. Balling the tissues together, he threw them in the garbage and quickly washed up. He walked out moments after, slipping inside the bedroom to change clothes, just missing Ben as he jumped in the bathroom. Once the toilet was flushed and his hands were clean, Ben turned to leave when the blood caught his eyes. Swallowing hard, he froze for a brief second before grabbing a stack of tissues and covering the blood that was peaking out from the garbage bin.

When they were downstairs in the car, Ben sat in the backseat and stayed quiet for the entire ride, looking up at Mickey every few minutes as Ian continued to talk about the talent show later that day. Pulling up at the Center, Ben gave a quiet goodbye before he rushed inside.

“Wonder what’s wrong with him? He was quiet the whole drive,” Ian said before turning to Mickey. “So were you. Everything okay?”

“It’s fine, man. Sure the kid’s fine too,” Mickey shrugged. “I gotta get to the gym. See you in a couple hours.”

Ian frowned but leaned in to capture Mickey’s lips in a quick kiss. Waving, he left the car and watched as Mickey drove off, the frown never leaving his face.

  
********  
  


Parking the car outside the gym, Mickey sat behind the wheel for a quiet moment. The blood from his nose that morning had thrown him off, leaving a nervous feeling to settle inside him. As much as he wanted to shrug it off, a small voice at the back of his head sang a different tune. Desperate for a distraction, he climbed from the car and started towards the front doors. Before he could reach the handle, a man stepped out beside him, dressed in a suit with a business card held out.

“Mr. Milkovich?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

The man laughed as he lowered the card. “I’m Eddie Bracken. I’m a promoter for the WBA.”

“I don’t handle that shit, man. Talk to Clyde or Antonne,” Mickey said as he reached for the door again but the man stepped in his path once more.

“I just wanted to introduce myself. You’re making quite the name for yourself in these parts, something of a local hero.”

“I’ll take your fucking word for it,” Mickey brushed past him and walked through.

“The fight with your Father was quite an epic showdown,” Ed said as he followed him inside. “Asked around about you, heard quite a few stories.”

Suddenly stopping, Mickey whirled around and stepped forward. “The fuck you been hearing?”

“Nothing!” Ed raised his hands. “Just that Father and Son never had the warm, fuzzy kind of relationship and that maybe, this fight was years in the making.”

“Keep your fucking nose outta my business,” Mickey snapped.

“Mr. Milkovich,” Ed started, smile bright. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I meant no disrespect. I just wanted you to know that a lot of people are getting interested in you. You are garnering a lot of attention and if I may speak freely, that means people will find interest in your life as well.”

When Mickey made no comment, Ed pushed his business card out again.

“Just give me a call sometime and we’ll have a chat,” he said before walking off with a wave.

Taking a breath, Mickey walked through the gym towards the locker room, tossing the card up on his shelf. Once he was stripped down to his workout clothes, he strolled back outside to see Antonne rushing through the doors.

“Mickey, come over here!” he waved towards his brother’s office.

Walking inside moments after, he saw them huddled together by the desk. “Something I need to know?”

“My brother was just about to tell me he did something stupid,” Clyde said as he leaned back in his chair.

“Well, if either of you answered your damn phones, you’d know before now!” Antonne huffed in reply.

“I was busy,” Clyde defended.

“Had other shit on my mind,” Mickey added.

“Alright whatever, doesn’t matter!” Antonne said before taking a breath. “Hernandez got arrested last night.”

“What the hell for?” Clyde frowned.

“Cops got an anonymous call, raided his apartment. They found six keys of heroin hidden in some secret wall. Looks like Hernandez was smuggling drugs on the side for some big shot down in California. Making a sweet percentage too, I bet."

“Fucking hell,” Mickey whistled. “How long he gone for?”

“Six keys of heroin?” Antonne said with a laugh. “If he makes a deal and talks, maybe just a few years. Otherwise, he’s gonna be gone for a long ass time.”

“Guess that means the fight’s off,” Mickey said, his hand moving to his temple to rub the mild headache away.

“Well, that’s where I come in,” Antonne said before his shoulders dropped in defeat. “You guys really should have answered your damn phones.”

“What did you do, little brother?” Clyde asked.

“So there was a press conference this morning and Willie Peters had a whole lot of shit to say. You remember him, right?”

“Yeah, the guy who’s one of the best. Said I had to fight him if I wanted the fucking doors to open,” Mickey said before his eyes narrowed. “Did you open the fucking doors?”

“He was talking a lot of shit about you, Mickey. Was going on and on about how he’s the biggest shit around, that whatever Cinderella story you got going on is a fluke, Hernandez was a fucking lowlife and so are you. The guy just wouldn’t stop. I trained him before, remember? He dated our Cousin? I got so many reasons to hate that guy,” Antonne replied.

“Still trying to figure out what the hell you did,” Clyde cut in.

“I may have kinda told him off and goaded him into a fight,” Antonne said as he turned to Mickey. “With you.”

“The fuck?” Mickey chuckled before his laughter quickly died down. “He’s one of the best, you told me that yourself. I’m nowhere near his fucking level, man!”

“He’s talented, there’s no denying that,” Antonne nodded. “But there is a whole lot of ego inside him too. He’s good, in fact he’s great. But not as great as he thinks he is.”

“Fuck,” Mickey groaned. “It’s a bad fucking time.”

“I know, you got hurt in your fight with Terry. Nothing’s gonna happen until the Doc gives you an OK in your follow up,” Antonne said with a pat to his shoulder.

“When do you see him?” Clyde chimed in.

“Doc's squeezing me in today,” Mickey replied as he pushed off from the wall. “Heading over to the Center in a bit and then I’ll go from there.”

“Alright, don’t forget to give me the paperwork after so we can send the bills to the WBA. It was an unsanctioned fight, the one between you and Terry, but it made a lot of noise and brought the promoters out in full swing so they agreed to pay the hospital bills this time,” Antonne said with a small smile.

“Thank fuck. How the hell else was I gonna pay for that shit?” Mickey said with a sigh. “This guy, Ed something, stopped me outside. Dude was a promoter. Gave me his card.”

“Let me guess. Eddie Bracken?” Clyde asked with a shake of his head. “Guy’s a shark. Comes looking the moment fresh meat is on the stage.”

“I told him the two of you are handling all that shit,” Mickey shrugged. “This fight with Willie, it gonna bring a lot of attention?”

“More than a lot,” Antonne nodded. “Look, I know I should’ve talked to you first and I wanna be honest with you. I got history with this guy. You know I do. I hate him for my own reasons but I really do believe that you have it in you to beat him. You can’t see yourself when you fight but we do. It’s really something.”

Mickey looked down, feeling the pain in his head worsen at the words. “I gotta go. I’ll see you guys later.”

Not waiting for them to comment, he walked out of the office towards the locker room to grab his things. Quickly changing back into his clothes, he slid through the gym and made his way outside. Lifting his hands to the steering wheel once he was inside the car, he sat in silence, staring out the window into thin air.

  
********  
  


Walking inside the Center a few hours later, Mickey kept to the back wall of the courtyard as he focused on the craziness up front. All of the kids involved in the show were huddled near the back fence, Ian and Nia beside them giving a pep talk before they started. The rest of the kids and advisors were scattered around the grass, talking amongst themselves as they waited. Watching Ian from afar, Mickey couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips. It felt good inside, seeing Ian in his element, helping strangers as if they were a part of his own family. The sweetness that had never disappeared on full display.

Switching his gaze away, he looked over at Ben standing on his own behind the others, clutching a sketchbook to his chest. He raised a hand to the boy and waved in greeting, smiling when he saw Ben’s nerves slowly melt away. When the rest of the kids were finally ready, Ian stood at the front and introduced the show. Giving the first little girl an encouraging smile, he made his way past the others towards Mickey at the end.

“Hey,” he smiled, pulling Mickey in for a quick kiss. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” Mickey said, tipping his chin to the kids. “They all set?”

“Yeah, they’re nervous but it should be good. Just hope it’ll have a positive effect,” Ian said before he reached out to touch Mickey’s waist. “You okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You just seemed a bit distant when you left earlier. Just worried.”

“You worry too damn much,” Mickey smirked, patting over Ian’s heart before spreading his hand. “That your default setting?”

“Like it ain’t yours too,” Ian smiled, lifting an arm over Mickey’s shoulders and pulling him in.

They stood pressed together as the first little girl held out a painting she had drawn of the farm animals she wanted to work with one day. The rest of the crowd was kind, praising her work and making her smile. When the second walked up, a boy older than the girl had been, he opened a notebook and started reading a poem he had written. The crowd stayed quiet, listening to the words, until he shut the book and looked up with hesitation. When the group applauded, the boy beamed as he walked off the stage.

“You did good,” Mickey spoke quietly, nudging Ian on the side. “Fucking proud of you.”

The smile that filled Ian’s face made Mickey flush from the attention. He cleared his throat and tried to untangle himself out of habit, but Ian held on and pulled him closer towards him.

“I love you,” Ian whispered, tilting Mickey’s head up to leave a small kiss.

Mickey watched him for a moment longer before leaning back. “You got a minute? Gotta run something by you.”

“Yeah, of course,” Ian said but looked away when two teenage girls rushed over. “Sorry, I’ll be back.”

He followed the girls to the other end of the courtyard as Mickey watched them go. Leaning his head back against the building wall, he closed his eyes and ran a tired hand through his hair. The headache was milder than before but all the thoughts running through his head made it hard for the pain to fully go away. When he heard Ben’s name being called, he opened his eyes to see Ian standing beside him again, a frown on his face as worried eyes regarded him.

“It’s the kid,” Mickey cut him off before he could speak.

Ian bit his tongue and stepped back as they watched Ben moved to the front of the small stage they had created. He looked across all the faces staring back at him before his eyes landed on Ian and finally on Mickey. They both gave him lopsided grins and Ben felt all the anxiety melt away. Opening his sketchbook, he took a breath and flipped it around.

“This is a drawing I did of the Center a few days ago,” he said, swallowing hard when he saw the looks of praise in the audience. “This place has been really good for me, really good _to_ me and I wanted to show that in the drawing.”

“It’s really beautiful, Ben,” Molly said from her spot at the front. “You have an wonderful talent.”

Blushing at her words, he flipped through the book for another sketch before hesitating on a page and lifting his eyes towards Mickey. Quickly looking back down, he flipped the book back over on the final sketch.

“This is a drawing I did of the Navy Pier,” he explained. “One day, last year, when I was feeling really low, I ran from home and kept running until I reached the pier. Saw this guy with his young daughter flying a kite. It was a really nice moment, you know? Hope the drawing is good enough.”

“It’s better than good,” Nia said with a sweet smile.

He gave them a nod to cover his blush and moved away from the stage as everyone applauded. When another girl went to the front after him, Mickey tilted his head towards Ian.

“Kid’s fucking amazing.”

“Yeah, he is. It took a lot of coaxing before he showed me his sketches,” Ian smiled. “He has this one drawing that I really think you should see. You should ask him about it after.”

Mickey frowned and turned his attention to the front again. When the last of the kids had finished, everyone rose from their spots and cheered. Ian made his way to the front and Mickey watched as Ben slowly approached him at the back of the courtyard.

“Fucking hell, kid,” Mickey grinned. “You got some serious talent. Wanna be an artist or something?”

“Yeah, maybe, I don’t know,” Ben smiled nervously.

“Gallagher said there was a sketch you did he wanted me to see. You comfy showing it?”

Ben hesitated as he reached to open the book. Taking a breath, he flipped to the same drawing he had previously avoided and slowly turned it around. Mickey stared wide eyed at a detailed sketch of his own face, one where a lopsided grin curved his lips.

“You fucking drew me,” he finally said. “Why?”

“Nia was talking the other day about people in our lives that had a positive influence,” Ben said quietly, keeping his eyes steered away. “You’re the first one who did.”

“Kid,” Mickey said, swallowing hard at the meaning in his words. “I’m no fucking role model.”

“Yeah, you are,” Ben replied and finally looked at him. “Are you okay?

“What are you talking about?” Mickey frowned.

“I saw the bloody tissues in the garbage bin this morning.”

Glancing around them to make sure no one else was near, Mickey took a breath and leaned in. “I’m fine. Not shit you need to worry about.”

“But you were bleeding,” Ben argued.

“A fucking nosebleed,” Mickey said with a smirk. “I’m a Milkovich, kid. You may not get what that means but we’re fucking survivors.”

Patting him on the shoulder, Mickey looked up just as Ian walked towards them.

“Nia wants to take a bunch of us out for some dessert,” Ian smiled.

“Antonne wants me back at the gym so I gotta go,” Mickey replied.

He gave a quick nod and turned to leave, ignoring the way Ian was calling his name. He made it to the car before Ian grabbed his arm and spun him around.

“Mick, what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird all day.”

“Nothing, man!” Mickey groaned. “Everything’s fine, I just gotta go. I’ll see you later.”

Climbing inside the car, he tore away from the lot as Ian watched him go. When he finally parked at the hospital minutes later, his hands were shaking as he gripped the steering wheel tight. Setting aside the growing tension inside him, he took a breath and walked towards the entrance.

  
********  
  


An hour later, he sat on the waiting room bed, picking at a small tear in his jeans. When the door opened, Dr. Warner gave a smile in greeting. Reading through the file, the Doctor shut the folder and wheeled closer on his stool.

“All clear,” he said and the breath that left Mickey made him chuckle. “Sorry if the insistence of the MRI made you nervous but the bleeding and the headaches gave us cause to worry.”

“But I’m good? Nothing’s fucking broken?” 

“No signs of internal bleeding or any irregular brain patterns. There is some minor swelling but that’s likely residual symptoms from the concussion, which caused your nosebleeds and headaches. But with some Tylenol and more rest, that should clear up fairly soon.”

“Fuck,” Mickey chuckled, running a hand through his hair. 

“Mr. Milkovich, this is good news right now,” the Doctor started. “But you need to be aware that the profession you are in can lead to this again. I’m not saying that all professional boxers and athletes have a high risk of getting a severe brain injury but you must understand that your risk is higher because of what you do.”

“You telling me to stop boxing?” Mickey snorted. “It’s what I do.”

“I’m not advising you to do anything but as your Doctor, it's my responsibility to make sure that you are aware,” he replied. “Today, your MRI was clear. It might be again next time. But the time after that? Boxing is a sport where the cerebrum, unfortunately, is always at risk. What weight level are you?”

“Welterweight,” Mickey said quietly.

“Alright, that’s not as bad as heavyweight would have been,” Dr. Warner smiled. “But it's just something to maybe keep in mind. The blow you took to your head was a serious one and you were lucky that it resulted in only a mild concussion. Next time? I can't answer that for you.”

Nodding at Doctor, Mickey gave his thanks and left the room. When he was standing outside the hospital entrance, breathing fresh air, he pulled his phone from his pocket and saw a missed call and three texts from Ian. Dropping the phone back in his pocket, he jogged across the street towards the car.

  
********  
  


Switching his phone on for the sixth time that hour, Ian stared at his texts and saw no replies to the ones he had sent. The worried feeling inside him continued to grow as he flipped to his main screen. Seeing the photo of him and Mickey from that morning in bed, a smile covered his face.

“That’s a cute picture,” Nia said as she leaned over to stare at the screen. “How much convincing did it take?”

“A bit,” Ian chuckled. “But not as much as you’d think.”

“He’s a softie deep down, isn’t he?”

“Usually not with people he's not close with but if you gain his trust, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you,” Ian replied, glancing over at Ben talking to one of the other kids around the table. “It’s amazing, how much more open he is now than when he and I first started. Man, we were just kids back then.”

“Not like you’re ancient now,” Nia chuckled.

“No, I know,” Ian laughed back. “But it just feels like we’ve been through everything.”

“And now you’re married.”

"Yeah, now we’re married,” Ian’s smile softened as he looked down at his ring. “He’s been a bit weird today, a bit distant. People have their off days, I get it. Him and me, we can usually read each other really well but I can’t get a read on him today. I know something’s bothering him. I just can’t figure out what it is.”

“You don’t think it’s the two of you, do you?” Nia asked.

“No, him and me are solid. Never gonna be that,” Ian said with a firm shake of his head.

“Talk to him when you go home and if he still doesn’t spill his guts, hold sex over his head,” she suggested.

Ian leaned back in his chair and laughed at her words. “Problem is, I want him too damn much all the time so I wouldn’t last.”

“Oh, the sweetness of young love,” Nia grinned. “Wait until you get my age.”

“Mick and me, we fight and piss each other off as much as anyone,” Ian snorted. “But there’ll never be a day where I won’t want to be with him. He owns my fucking heart, you know? And I own his.”

“Shit,” Nia exclaimed. “Looks like me and the wife have got some competition in the soulmate department.”

“I always knew Mick was my soulmate. Hell, I think I even knew it back when we were just kids,” Ian said. “But life wasn’t always easy getting us to this moment.”

“You need to stop looking back,” she advised, touching his arm in comfort. “I don’t know much but from the bits you’ve told me, that fight with his Father was important in a lot of ways. And he won, Ian. You guys are allowed to be happy now.”

He smiled at her words and pulled into a hug. When they leaned away, she pushed his shoulder and gave a wink before turning back to the rest of the table.

  
********  
  


“Mickey, come on in,” Joe waved at him from behind his desk. “Glad you called. Saved me a trip.”

Dropping into one of the empty chairs, Mickey looked up. “You first.”

“Alright,” Joe smiled. “I just wanted you to know that I spoke with my friend, Detective Adams this morning. Those two police officers that arrested you that night, they've been suspended without pay until the investigation into their conduct has been completed.”

“They gonna be fired?” Mickey asked.

“Well, the case would have been much stronger had you chosen to pursue it personally but even without your testimony, the squad cameras are damaging enough. Whether or not they're fired, we’ll have to see the political atmosphere around town the day the case is closed.”

Mickey nodded as he thought over the words. Watching him from behind the desk, Joe squinted his eyes and sat forward.

“What’s on your mind?”

“A lot of shit. Guess I wanted some advice,” Mickey replied.

“I’ll do my best. Hit me.”

“After the fight with Terry, I went to the hospital. Doc said I had a mild concussion but no bleeding or brain injury or whatever.”

“That’s right. I was glad to hear that from Clyde,” Joe nodded. “What’s the problem?”

“I started getting nosebleeds and bad headaches after. This morning, the bleeding wouldn’t stop,” Mickey replied. “Called the Doc and he squeezed me in. Got an MRI.”

“What were the results?” Joe asked quietly.

“I’m good, I’m fine. Just leftover symptoms or some other shit,” Mickey said and took a breath. “But he said next time, fucking luck might go the other way.”

“That’s the nature of the sport, I’m afraid,” Joe nodded. “You're a bit better off in welterweight. Heavyweight would have been insane.”

“Doc said that too,” Mickey snorted. “But he got me fucking thinking.”

“Do you want to stop boxing?” Joe asked.

“Fuck, no!” Mickey exclaimed. “I’m not running schemes or doing shit just to fucking get by. It ain’t gonna land me back in jail. It’s something I’m fucking good at.”

“But?” Joe pressed.

“Me and Ian, we’ve been through so much shit together,” Mickey said. “I survived my fucking childhood, fucking Terry! He got through his bipolar, he’s taking his meds, he’s fucking stable. You should’ve seen him at the Center today. Planned this whole fucking talent show for the kids.”

“You don’t want anything to risk your life together?” Joe finished for him.

"Me and him are married. You got any idea how much shit we had to fucking go through to get us here?“ Mickey exclaimed. "Fuck, it's not just us either. I got a kid. I fucking love my kid. Wasn't always like that for a lot of fucking reasons but I love the kid now. I'm trying to be a better fucking Father than my own. And now we got this other kid staying with us too."

“I get it, Mickey. I do. This is not an easy decision to make.”

“Yeah, it is,” Mickey said with an exhale. “I love what I do, man. It makes me feel good. Makes me feel confident or whatever. Shit I never felt growing up, you know? But Ian? I love him more than all of that. I love my kid. I can’t risk that.”

Joe watched him with a sympathetic smile before his eyes narrowed in thought. “There is one thing.”

  
********  
  


When Mickey walked inside the apartment a couple hours later, Ben was sitting on the couch, books scattered around him. The space was quiet, the bedroom door closed at the end of the hall. Making his way towards the couch, he sat down as Ben turned his eyes towards him.

“It’s all good,” Mickey said.

The look of relief that filled Ben’s face made him anxious but he swallowed his nerves and motioned towards the sketchbook beside them.

“You got a lot of talent, kid.”

“Thanks,” Ben smiled.

“Ian in the room?”

“Yeah, he was quiet when we got back.”

Ruffling the boy’s hair, Mickey rose to his feet and walked towards the bedroom. When he closed the door and looked over, he saw Ian sitting at the edge of the bed, head lowered as he stared at the floor. Tossing his jacket to the chair, he moved across the space and sat beside him.

“I got a nosebleed at the mall the other day,” he started, his words making Ian snap his worried eyes towards him. “It wasn’t a big deal but then the fucking headaches started and this morning, in the bathroom, fucking nose started bleeding again.”

“Mickey, what the fuck?” Ian snapped.

“After the talent show, I went to the hospital. Did a fucking MRI or whatever. It was clear,” Mickey said, his voice firm as their eyes locked. “Just leftover shit from the concussion. I’m good, Ian. Honest.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” Ian asked.

“Didn’t wanna make a big deal unless it fucking became one.”

“Mickey!” Ian exclaimed. “You can’t keep the important shit from me. You gotta tell me so we can deal with it together.”

“I get it,” he said quietly.

Reaching across, Ian laced their fingers together, bringing their hands to his own lap. “See this ring? Goodness and health, remember? That fucking covers everything.”

Mickey smiled at their hands and nodded before looking up. “You hear about Hernandez?”

“Hernandez?” Ian frowned at the sudden change in topic. “No, what?”

“Got arrested last night. Had six keys of heroin.”

“Well, thank fuck, you don’t gotta fight him now,” Ian exlciamed but the look in Mickey’s eyes made him sit straight. “What?”

“You can thank my fucking trainer 'cause he got into it with Willie Peters and the fucking guy said he wants to fight me.”

“Willie Peters? Ranked number nine in the WBA, best in Chicago, one of the best in the country Willie Peters?” Ian asked. “You’re not fighting him.”

“Fuck you,” Mickey chuckled.

“Mick, you just had a MRI. Your nose was bleeding, you had headaches!” Ian snapped, the worry seeping through his words. “If the shit they say about that guy is true, he’s gonna try and crush you.”

“Will you give me some fucking credit?” Mickey smiled. “I got a plan.”

“Does it involve you not fighting the guy? 'Cause that's the only fucking plan I’ll get behind!”

Rising to his feet, Mickey stood between Ian’s open legs and held the sides of his face, smile softening when he felt the hands instantly wrap around him.

“Just trust me, alright?” he asked. “Not gonna do something stupid. I fucking promise.”

Taking a deep breath, Ian pressed his face against Mickey’s chest, arms tightening as he held him. They stood locked together for several seconds, breathing each other in, comforted by the closeness between them.

“Come on, it’s been a long day,” Mickey nudged him backwards. “Let’s get to bed.”

They pulled at their clothes slowly and switched the lights off before climbing under the covers. When Ian came to spoon him from behind, Mickey turned over until they were face to face. Their eyes stayed on one another as Mickey reached out in the darkness to brush Ian’s hair away.

“Don’t ever fucking leave me,” Ian whispered, the words carrying a meaning that Mickey easily understood.

“You’re stuck with me for life, Gallagher.”

They closed their eyes and pressed their foreheads together, Ian’s arm wrapping around him under the blankets.


	19. EIGHTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter after this, maximum two if there's issue with the pacing. Almost done :)

*****

Walking inside the Northside Boxing Center, Mickey took a moment to glance around himself at the vast space. The ring was at the center of the gym, dozens of chairs spread on every side for the spectators that were slowly entering the doors behind them. The spot to the left was reserved for news coverage where the commentators were setting up with the camera crew.

“Fucking ESPN,” Mickey said, tilting his chin forward.

“Willie’s a big name in Chicago. Garners lots of interest every time he fights,” Antonne said before he reached out to pat Mickey’s shoulder. “So are you, kid. Not everyone who bought tickets is coming to watch him.”

“Fucking place is spotless,” Clyde cut in as he stepped beside them. “Waxed floors, high rise windows, lighting fixtures like you’re in the Goddamn MGM Grand Garden. Gimme my own gym any day of the week.”

“I feel bad, Mickey,” Antonne said with a sigh, turning away from his brother. “I got you roped into this. Shit, you had a concussion just a while ago.”

“The old videos we watched helped. I got a picture on how this fucking guy boxes,” Mickey replied.

“Just remember to keep your gloves up. He knows you got hurt, he’ll try and get you in the head if he can so keep the gloves up,” Antonne advised him.

With a nod to his trainer, Mickey moved through the small waving crowd that had filled the seats towards the change room at the end. Stripping down to his match gear, he laid his gloves beside him on the bench and leaned his head back to calm the nerves that were rising. The commotion from outside grew louder, signalling the arrival of the rest of the audience. Taking a final deep breath, he reached beside him for the athletic tape. Before he could pull a piece around his hands, Ian kneeled between his legs and grabbed his hands to stop him.

“Let me do that,” he said quietly.

Mickey gave a small smile and sat back, watching as Ian slowly began wrapping around his left wrist and knuckles before moving to the next hand. Once both were tight and secure, Ian lowered the tape and looked up.

“You good? How you feeling?”

“Part of me figured you’d sit this one out,” Mickey shrugged. “You left the apartment crack of fucking dawn this morning.”

Ian’s brows instantly furrowed as he straightened on his knees. “Mick, I’m worried. You know I am. But there’s no way in hell I’m missing this fight. I’m in your corner. Fucking always.”

Not waiting for a response, he yanked Mickey against him and silenced any comments with a kiss.

“I got this,” Mickey smiled, hands moving to frame Ian’s face out of habit when they leaned away. “Guy’s got speed and talent but a lot of fucking ego too.”

“Just make sure you keep your gloves up,” Ian said. “He’ll know you just recovered from a concussion and he’ll want to hit you where it hurts most so keep your gloves up. Don’t let him hit you at your head. Fucking tap out if you have to, lose the fucking match, I don’t care. Just don’t let him hit your head.”

“You and your fucking worry,” Mickey said with a soft smile.

“I’m serious, Mick. Watching Terry hurt you in the ring, watching him make you bleed was one of the hardest fucking things I’ve had to see. Don’t let this guy hurt you too.”

Seeing the fear in Ian’s eyes, Mickey’s gaze softened even more. He leaned in and let their foreheads press to one another, the quiet giving them a moment of peace before the sound of footsteps forced them to look up at the entrance.

“Sorry to cut your moment short but there’s a shit load of people here, Mick,” Antonne pointed behind him. “Gotta be at least three hundred. Willie’s promoters fucking oversold the tickets. ESPN just finished setting up. Maybe three channels will show the match tonight on fucking cable.”

“Jesus,” Ian said, looking back at Mickey. “You nervous?”

“I fucking am now,” Mickey grumbled. “Willie here?”

“His motorcade pulled up a couple minutes ago,” Antonne nodded. “Come on, kid. You gotta get out there.”

Sharing a look with Ian, Mickey grabbed his gloves and started moving through the hallway. Walking into the open space, he stopped to see the crowd of hundreds gathered in their seats around the ring. As he glanced through the faces, he picked out Lip, Kev and V seated on one end with Mandy, Joe and Clyde beside them. Nia and her wife Ellen finished the row while a group of regulars from the Alibi sat in the seats behind, beers in hand, ready to cheer.

“You got this,” Ian’s voice brought him back to the present. “Just don’t let him hurt you.”

Grabbing Ian’s neck, he pulled the ginger down until their foreheads were pressed together again. They breathed each other in, the moment private and theirs, before Ian pressed a kiss to his cheek and walked to his seat beside Lip.

“You look fucking stressed,” Lip commented. “Everything okay?”

He tilted towards Mandy on his other side, seeing her worried expression. “He’s going up against a pro boxer who’s fucking brutal in the ring. Mick had a concussion and the Doc said shit could be different next time, could be worse. You asking me if I’m stressed?”

“You tell Mickey any of this?” Mandy asked quietly.

“What am I gonna say? Ask him to stop boxing? Give him an ultimatum?” Ian sighed. “Gave enough ultimatums to him in the past. Not doing that shit again. Plus, he loves this, loves boxing. You guys see him in the ring. He's in his fucking element. I can’t ask him to stop doing that.”

“If it means his fucking health and future?” Mandy demanded.

“I can’t ask him to sacrifice that for me, Mandy,” he replied.

The announcer walked to the center of the ring and silenced their conversation. As the fight was introduced to loud applause form the crowd, Mickey bounced up and down on his feet at the edge of the hallway.

“I just want you to know,” Antonne began, capturing Mickey’s attention as he listened to his own introduction. “It’s been awesome training you, kid. No matter what happens tonight, win or lose, I’m in your corner.”

Giving his trainer a lopsided grin, Mickey started forward when the announcer shouted his name. The crowd on his side cheered the loudest, several unknown faces blended with the ones he knew. Slipping between the ropes, he punched his gloves together and searched the seats until his eyes met Ian’s. He saw the worry staring up at him mixed in with pride, love and fear. They held their gaze for several solid seconds until the entrance doors burst open.

With Party Up by DMX starting in the background, an entourage walked through the doors. They cheered and shouted with the crowd, livening up the moment as they danced towards the ring. When the last of the group had trickled through the doors, Willie entered with a proud smile on his face. Dressed in his satin blue shorts and his gloves pumped up towards the ceiling, he threw his head back and shouted as he made his way down the aisle. The crowd rose to their feet in cheers as he move through them, confident smirk on full display.

Standing at the ropes, Mickey cracked his neck from side to side, loosening his muscles. When Willie finally stepped inside the ring, the music died after him. With a wink, Willie raised his gloved hands in the air, making a wide circle around the ring as even louder cheers rose from his supporters. The announcer stepped forward and continued his introduction, but Mickey ignored the words and looked back at his end of the crowd.

“You got this,” Ian mouthed.

Mickey gave a half smile and switched his gaze to his sister and Joe, both giving him encouraging nods. When his eyes fell on Kevin, his tall friend gave a wink and a grin. Turning back around, he took a breath and moved towards the middle.

“Gentlemen, you already know the rules but we’ll go over some of the basics again,” the referee stared between them. “We have news coverage tonight so I expect extra care from both of you. No spitting, kicking or biting. Watch your low blows, kidney and rabbit punches. In case of a knockdown, you go to your corner until I say so. I want a good, clean match tonight. Any questions?”

When the referee moved to his own corner, Willie stepped forward, towering over Mickey by a foot of difference. “You’re dead. You can thank your fucking trainer for the pounding you’re gonna get.”

“You that fucking confident, man?” Mickey asked.

“I’m ranked ninth. The fuck are you? Fucking newbie? Think you can take my spot away from me?” Willie chuckled before his eyes caught Ian over Mickey’s shoulder. “You and your faggot husband ain’t going nowhere. Fucking South Side trash, nothing more. You’re dead.”

“You got a lot of fucking aggression, man,” Mickey said as he took a step back. “I know why I got mine. Like you said, fucking South Side. Assholes like you, fucking North Siders, mean absolute zero shits.”

“You think you’re a fucking tough guy?” Willie hissed, eyes catching on the ESPN commentators to his left. “Think you can beat me? I’ll kill you tonight.”

“Yeah, I heard that about you,” Mickey said with a crooked grin. “You got talent but a lot of fucking talk too. Show me in the fucking ring, man.”

Willie growled quietly as he raised his gloves and punched them over Mickey’s with a heavy force. Moving to their own corners, they stood against the ropes as the commentators began their coverage in the background. When the referee sounded the bell, they shifted to the center with their hands raised.

“Come on, South Side,” Willie goaded, his supporters laughing as he moved around the ring. “Throw a punch, kid. Show me what you got!”

Mickey moved with slow footsteps, keeping his eyes focused on his opponent’s gloves and tuning out the rest of the noise around him.

“Come on, South Side!” Willie shouted. “These guys bought tickets to watch me pummel your ass! Ain’t you gonna give them a show before I do?”

He threw his head to the side and laughed with the crowd. The moment he turned back around, Mickey leapt forward and threw two jabs that took Willie by surprise. Ian fisted in the air as Mandy jumped to her feet to shout her support from the seats. Angered by the surprise hit, Willie’s eyes darkened as he stormed forward, gloves raised. He threw four hard hooks, left and right, backing Mickey up against the ropes. With a quick move of feet, Mickey slipped away and spun around, catching Willie’s jaw with a lead uppercut. The hit forced Willie forward and three hard punches had him pushing Mickey to the corner.

“Mick, get out of there!” Antonne shouted.

Lifting his gloves in defense, Mickey took the onslaught of hits before Willie punched his midsection. The hit was hard, knocking the wind out of Mickey as he threw his hands around his opponent. They tangled together and moved to the center before the referee dove in to separate. Willie threw another lead hook and two jabs when the bell rang for the end of the round.

“You got nothing! Nothing!” Willie shouted, spitting to the side as he moved to his own corner.

Falling on the small stool Antonne had lifted, Mickey took a drink from the water shoved at his face. Tilting his head back, he heaved his breaths in and out as Antonne grabbed his shoulders from behind.

“So far, he’s got the advantage over you. You’re quick but the son of a bitch has got a long, powerful jab. You can’t let him get you pinned on the ropes. Keep him in the center of the ring.”

“I got it,” Mickey nodded.

“Take the fight to him. Don’t let him come out and hit you,” Antonne said with a smack to his shoulder.

The bell rang signalling the start of the second round. They rose from their corners, gloves held high, and walked to the middle once more.

“You’re nothing, kid. You’re nothing,” Willie spat as he raised his gloves above his head. “I’m Willie fucking Peters. The Danger Man! You think you can take me?”

The applause was loud as the crowd cheered behind him.

“You done parading your ass like it’s a fucking circus?” Mickey muttered. “Get your fucking gloves up, man.”

The words were enough to send Willie into motion. He charged forward, throwing a hard jab that hit Mickey’s shoulder. Three more lead hooks and another jab had Mickey pinned to the ropes again. Four more punches to his midsection, two jabs to his chin. He could hear Ian shout in the distance, yelling at him to raise his gloves in defense. The commentators on the side were spewing glory towards his opponent. The majority of the spectators was cheering Willie on. Snapping his eyes open, suddenly his opponent’s face was gone. All Mickey could see was Terry, towering above him, mouth open, throwing every slur in the book like he always did. Feeding into that rage, that blood-curling anger and hatred, Mickey growled as he shoved his opponent away, the sudden force bringing noise from the crowd.

Willie raised his gloves and threw another jab but Mickey ducked and threw four of his own, the speedy hits taking the taller man by surprise. Taking advantage of the moment, Mickey threw a lead hook, straight hook, jab, jab, jab. Willie rolled away to his corner before he came back, barreling in. They grabbed one another in the center and pushed off before the referee could step in. Willie threw a punch, Mickey threw a jab. They exchanged hits four more times before the bell rang to signal the end of the round. Raising his glove, Willie threw one final hit after the bell had sounded, raising jeers from both sides at the unsportsmanlike conduct.

Dropping down on his stool, Mickey leaned his head back as Antonne brushed the smear of blood away from his temple. He took a drink of water and breathed in and out, calming his heartbeat down with every breath.

“I think you pissed him off,” Antonne smiled, moving to kneel beside him. “Tell me what’s going on out there.”

“He’s fucking winning,” Mickey snorted, watching Willie from across the ring. “How’s my punches looking?”

“You’re good, you’re doing real good, Mickey. Just stay on your feet, don’t let him corner you. His punches are hard but they’re heavy too. They’ll tire him out. Just stay on your feet,” Antonne smacked his shoulder. “Remember to take his heart. Hurt him and take his heart. Then the match will be yours.”

“Fight through the fucking pain, right?” Mickey asked, tossing a look over his shoulder to see Ian watching him with concern fixed in his expression.

The bell sounded and the two walked to the middle again. Not wasting any time, Willie raised his gloves and threw two heavy punches, catching Mickey at his jaw with each hit. Stumbling backwards, Mickey got a hold of his legs and slipped away, Willie rushing after him around the ring. Another three hard hits and Willie had him pinned against the ropes. Using his upper body strength, Willie stopped Mickey’s escape and threw a new assault of punches, one then another, hit after hit. Feeling the pain inside his body worsen, Mickey tilted his head to the side behind his gloved defense. He could hear Antonne’s voice in the background mixed in with Ian’s but the moment he looked forward, Terry’s face was there again. It switched to his uncles and cousins, his older brothers, the two cops that had arrested him and every other asshole that had brought him pain.

His hatred for those faces blended with the love he had for Ian. The sound of his voice broke through his fog, pleading with him to fight back. It gave him the final bit of strength he needed to leap forward and throw three jabs, a lead hook, straight hook, lead uppercut. Willie held his hands up, heaving from his own fatigue, as he fell against the ropes. Not giving Willie the chance to counter, Mickey kept hitting, using a speedy combination that spun his opponent. Lead hook, lead hook, straight uppercut. Straight hook, straight hook, jab, jab, jab. The noise from the crowd was energetic, fans from both sides cheering at the sudden change in domination. Three more jabs and a hit to the midsection before Willie threw a sudden low punch that had Mickey staggering away. Ian and Mandy jumped to their feet, shouting towards the referee, but the match continued as Mickey grabbed his abdomen. Taking advantage, Willie threw three hard punches before the third bell sounded.

Falling back on his stool, Mickey watched as Willie hesitated in the center of the ring, eyes dark, before moving to his own corner. Despite the pain coursing through him, Mickey looked over at his trainer and smiled, knowing his opponent had finally been spooked.

Running a hand through his hair in a nervous habit, Ian rose to his feet and made a move towards the ropes. Hearing the ESPN commentators continue their analysis, he paused behind their chairs to listen.

“Milkovich has taken every hard punch that Willie has thrown his way. He’s cut, he’s bleeding but he’s still on his feet.”

“That third round really showed the talent Milkovich has,” the second commentator said with a nod. “The kid has the number nine in the WBA against the ropes, stunned by the ambush of his punches. This is not a Cinderella story, ladies and gentlemen. We’re watching something special here tonight.”

Looking away at the words, Ian rushed through the noisy crowd, sliding a hand behind Mickey’s neck to signal his presence. “How bad?”

“I’m good, Gallagher,” Mickey managed to smile.

Reaching forward, Ian wiped the blood from Mickey’s upper lip with the back of his hand before leaning in closer to his husband. “Remember what you promised. Don’t let him hurt you.”

The bell sounded and Mickey pressed his forehead to Ian’s through the ropes for a quick second. Their eyes met a final time before Mickey rose to his feet again. Ian slowly backed away, falling quietly into his chair.

“Mickey got him good last round but that fucking guy’s got a lot of power,” Lip exclaimed.

“Yeah and he fucking plays dirty too,” Mandy snapped. “Fucking ref is blind if he didn’t catch that low shit.”

Lifting his gloves, Mickey took a step forward and threw a punch at his opponent. Willie ducked but Mickey was quicker, chasing him the two steps and throwing three jabs and a hook. Lifting his own gloves, Willie threw a straight hook and two jabs, grabbing Mickey’s arms and shoving him away. They circled one another around the ring, the noise from the crowd loud around them.

“You lasted four fucking rounds. Not getting past this one,” Willie spat.

He rushed forward and threw two sudden jabs at Mickey’s midsection. Three more straight hooks before Mickey threw a lead uppercut and pushed him away. They threw one punch after another, fists colliding with jaws as they stood firm in the center of the ring. Catching the clock on the wall, Willie made a growl and leapt forward with three sudden jabs to Mickey’s ribs before he threw a final low punch. As the crowd began shouting their jeers, Mickey lowered his gloves to cover the painful blow. With the referee not coming in, Willie raised his glove and threw a hard jab at Mickey’s head, sending him backwards to the floor.

“Fucking call that shit!” Ian shouted, running beside Antonne as he stared up at the ref. “The fuck are you doing in there? That was a low fucking blow!”

“Calm him down!” the referee shot towards Antonne.

“You calm him the fuck down! What the fuck are you doing, ref?” Antonne yelled back before he switched his attention to Mickey. “Kid, you gotta get up.”

Willie was standing above him, fists raised in the air, laughing towards the crowd even with so many fans shaking their heads. Blinking his eyes from the blurred vision, Mickey tilted his head towards the soothing voice he could always pick out through the noise around him.

“Mickey, look at me,” Ian said, keeping their eyes locked on one another as the referee began his countdown. “I could tell you to stay down, to tap out and be done with this fucking fight but that’s not who you are. You fight, you’re a survivor and that’s one of the best fucking things I love about you. So get up, Mick. Get up and beat this piece of shit.”

With the referee reaching number seven in his count, Mickey rolled to his knees and forced himself back to his feet. He closed his eyes and stumbled backwards for a moment before shaking the dizziness out of his head. Lifting a hand to the referee, he gave a nod that signalled he was set. Willie stood back watching him, a look of disbelief filling his expression.

“That all you got?” Mickey asked, taking a step forward. “Come on, Peters. You’re supposed to be ranked number nine. That all you fucking got for me? Stop doing it dirty, shithead. Fucking fight me like the pro you keep bitching that you are.”

Willie vibrated from rage as he leapt forward but Mickey ducked away, throwing two jabs that caught his opponent before he fled. They circled one another as the clock began winding down for the final round.

“What else you gotta say? Gonna call me a faggot? A pole smoking queer? Be fucking original, man!” Mickey chuckled, his laughter drawing a furious noise from the other man. “Ranked ninth? With those lazy fucking punches?”

“Fuck you!” Willie hissed as he charged forward.

Mickey raised his gloves in defense and took the onslaught of hits. When Willie took another stab at his head, he jumped backwards to duck and threw three jabs of his own. Whirling around his opponent, Mickey threw a lead uppercut, lead hook, straight hook and four more jabs. Pinning Willie against the ropes, he used every bit of strength inside him with a lead hook, lead hook, jab, jab, jab. Straight uppercut, straight hook, six more jabs. All Willie could do was hold his gloves up as Mickey went after him. Another straight hook, lead hook, two more jabs and he could hear Antonne and Ian in the distance, shouting his name through the noisy crowd. Lead hook, straight hook, three more jabs. He threw four sudden punches to Willie’s midsection and three long jabs to his chin. One final punch and Willie went crashing to the floor, rolling over to his side from dizziness. Mickey breathed hard as he stepped backwards, hearing the loud cheers from the fans around them.

“South Side! South Side! South Side!” the chant rang loudly in the gym as everyone applauded his display.

The referee began shouting the seconds with Mickey slowly backing towards the ropes. Willie made a failed attempt to lift himself but the faintness won out and he rolled onto his back again. The moment the referee finished his count, Mickey fell backwards, straight into Ian’s arms. He could feel Ian kiss the side of his face, his neck, his cheek, his brow as his arms wrapped around him, not caring for the blood that stained his own skin. All Mickey could do was drag the gloves off and press his hands over Ian’s arms as he held him. The crowd rose to their feet in praise, everyone but Willie’s entourage cheering Mickey’s win.

The referee signalled him back to the middle and Ian released his hold, watching as Mickey stumbled forward with tired steps. Willie was back in his corner, watching in stunned silence as Mickey’s hand was raised in the air. The cheers were even louder at the announcement of his win. Lowering his hand, Mickey glanced towards his opponent and they shared a lengthy stare before Mickey smirked and staggered back to his own corner. Slipping through the ropes, he let Antonne embrace him and shared a smile with Joe and Clyde over his trainer’s shoulder. Mandy was quick to hug him next, a mix of laughter, criticism and praise spilling from her lips. When Ian finally asked everyone to give them a moment, Mickey felt himself take a breath he’d earned and let the arms hold him again.

“I can’t believe you did it,” Ian whispered in his ear, his hold growing tighter as they swayed. “I mean, fuck, I can believe it but I can’t, you know?”

Mickey finally leaned back and gave a tired smile. “Told you I got it.”

Not caring about the spectators around them, the news coverage or their family and friends, he pulled Ian closer and let their lips slide together. The kiss was gentle, a confirmation of their love for one another before they slowly leaned away. Glancing through the faces of their friends, Mickey gave a nod to Kevin and waved him over.

“We good?”

“Yeah, we’re fucking good,” Kevin bounced up and down on his feet. “The guys at the bar get their cut but the rest is you and me, fifty-fifty.”

“The fuck is he talking about?” Ian whirled towards him.

“Yeah, what the fuck are you talking about?” V asked her husband.

“We going out to fucking celebrate?” Mickey said instead.

“Damn right!” Kevin hollered. “It’s gonna be my fucking treat!”

“You’re gonna feed fourteen people? With whose money?” V argued, arms pinned to her waist.

“Baby, we’re good, I promise,” he winked at his wife before leading her and the others away.

“Mick, what’s going on?” Ian frowned.

Motioning with his head, Mickey looked over at Antonne and Clyde and waved them over to the back hallway.

“Kid, that was fucking fantastic!” his trainer exclaimed. “The look on Willie’s face? Fuck, you won, Mickey! You fucking beat him!”

“A lot of doors just opened up for you,” Clyde added, smile warm and genuine. “ESPN was going on an on about you being the next best thing.”

“Lots of talk with the promoters just now. We got the tail end of the conversation but they were saying amazing things,” Antonne said with a wide grin. “Talked about you fighting against some of the big names over in New York, Vegas, San Diego. Even said you could go international.”

Mickey slowly dragged his gaze towards Ian and watched as the ginger stood beside him in silence. He could read Ian’s eyes like always, seeing the confusion mixed in with worry and a sadness if Mickey had to take time away from home for the new future in front of him. The opportunities that had been opened were overwhelming to Ian, no matter how much he tried to mask them. Mickey saw all those emotions and felt a lightness in his heart as he reached out to lace their fingers together.

“Not fighting after this,” he finally said, turning forward again.

Silence surrounded them for several seconds before Antonne chimed in. “The hell are you talking about? You just beat Willie Peters. That’s huge!”

“I get that but I’m done,” Mickey said and felt the grip on his hand tighten from Ian’s hold but he kept his eyes forward. “The concussion the other day, my nose was bleeding after, got headaches and shit.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Antonne frowned.

“Guess ‘cause I was on the fucking fence,” Mickey shrugged. “Doc cleared me but he was fucking right. Willie hit me hard at the head again, the fucking asshole. Been in a lot of fucking fights since I was a kid, thought doing it pro made sense and it did. Made a lot of sense but I can’t risk it no more, you know?”

“Mickey, there’s no guarantee you’ll be injured,” Antonne argued. “I mean, fuck, I get why you’re worried but you just beat Willie Peters. The WBA ranking comes out in a few weeks. All the doors just opened for you.”

“That shit ain’t me, man,” Mickey shook his head. “The fucking news coverage, reporters, traveling around the fucking country, the promoters digging into my life, my fucking past. When this shit was small-time, that was different. But now, all this noise, it just ain’t me. Even if it wasn’t as big as this, I can’t risk what I got with this idiot.”

He tilted his chin towards Ian but chose not to look his way, knowing the emotions that were playing out at that moment.

“I got a kid too. That other kid, Ben, told me the other day I was a good fucking influence. Me? You know how crazy that shit is?” Mickey chuckled. “Ten years ago, my life was really fucking different. Where the fuck I am now, I can’t risk any of it, you know? I love boxing, I love getting in that ring but I don’t love it more than him. I don’t love it more than my kid.”

He finally looked over and saw the tears in Ian’s eyes. They stared at one another for a long minute, neither speaking, until Clyde’s voice broke through the moment.

“So you’re hanging up the gloves?”

“Yeah, guess I am,” Mickey nodded. “But it’s not all a fucking waste. Made some money tonight.”

“Money? What are you talking about? We weren’t taking any bets,” Antonne frowned.

“Well, that’s where our buddy Kevin came in,” Mickey smirked and met Ian’s eyes. “We got the Alibi regulars to spread some word around. Regular shit like how much I sucked, that I was running on beginner’s luck, got my head knocked in the other week, was dizzy and shit. With Willie’s fucking reputation, fucking everyone bet against me tonight except Kevin.”

“You telling me you scammed Willie’s supporters out of their money?” Ian asked.

“Hey, they’re fucking North Siders,” Mickey defended. “They got the money to spare.”

“Jesus,” Clyde chuckled. “How much you make?”

“Enough to be a small fucking cushion,” Mickey grinned. “Half my share, I’m giving to you guys.”

“Kid, no,” Antonne shook his head.

“No way we’re gonna accept that,” Clyde added

“Look, the two of you made a lot of fucking difference for me. When Joe showed up at your door, I was nothing but an ex-convict with a shitty fucking last name. But you took a chance, man. Both of you,” Mickey explained. “Boxing, the world, the fucking environment, just ‘cause I won’t fight doesn’t mean I wanna leave it.”

“What are you saying?” Antonne asked.

“Was thinking of becoming a trainer like you,” Mickey replied. “I figured with all the back and forth the two of you kept having about opening up a bigger place and shit, maybe the three of us could do it together.”

“You, me and Antonne opening up a gym together?” Clyde asked and hesitated briefly before a smile spread across his face. “Well fuck, Mickey. That’s actually a nice fucking plan.”

“Shit,” Antonne chuckled. “I actually really like it. You sure that’s what you want?”

“Yeah, talked it out with Joe the other night. Dude gives good fucking advice.”

“Jesus, alright,” Antonne nodded. “Shit, let’s get to dinner. Now I fucking know why that friend of yours is treating us.”

The moment they were gone, Ian spun him around and pinned him to the wall. “Mickey, are you serious? You love boxing. I can’t ask you to stop doing it.”

“You deaf, Gallagher? You didn’t ask me. I fucking chose to stop doing it.”

“Mick,” Ian groaned. “I fucking love you for thinking of me, of Yev, of _Ben_ , but you loved this.”

“Yeah, and training’s gonna be fucking awesome too,” Mickey shrugged. "Fuck, man, if I’m being honest, I think fighting Terry was the whole fucking point, you know? Fighting him, beating him, making that fucking asshole see he didn’t have a hold over me no more. The shit in my head will always fucking be there but I ain’t terrified of the guy no more. Feels like that was the whole point of me boxing in the first place. I just didn’t fucking realize it ‘til now.”

“Holy shit,” Ian said before a laugh took over. “Are you sure? You’re really sure?”

“Will you just fucking kiss me?” Mickey smiled.

Ian leaned in and crashed their lips together. Their mouths were hungry and insistent, tongues tasting one another against a clash of teeth before Mickey pulled away with a groan.

“My fucking head hurts.”

“Shit, should we take you to the hospital?” Ian exclaimed as his hands roamed gently around Mickey’s head, fingers sliding through his hair.

“Stop fussing,” Mickey chuckled. “You’re like a nagging wife.”

“You give me every fucking reason!” Ian laughed back.

“Just kiss me, man,” Mickey whispered, yanking Ian back towards him.

They laughed as they kissed, hands moving around each other’s bodies, holding one another tight. Ian’s hand cradled the back of Mickey’s head, another hand sliding through his hair as he held him. They pressed their foreheads together, wrapped in warmth as Ian slowly breathed him in.

“I’m bleeding and sweaty. Smell fucking terrible.”

“You smell perfect,” Ian whispered, lowering his face to breathe him in again. “Love you.”

Mickey smiled and tightened his arms, running his hands up and down Ian’s back in answer. Mandy stepped through seconds later, annoyed by their display, shouting at them to hustle. Raising a finger towards his sister, Mickey dragged Ian back in to kiss him.

  
********  
  


When they walked through the doors to Sizzler twenty minutes later, Mickey gave Ian a smile at his restaurant suggestion. Following their group to the tables laid out for them towards the back, they gave a wave of surprise at Ben when they saw him standing there. The teen pointed to Mandy who rolled her eyes but gave a small smile as she took her seat.

“So, what happened? Did you win?” Ben asked, looking over Mickey’s bruised face. “Shit, he got you good.”

“I got him better,” Mickey snorted, playfully pushing the laughing teenager away. “Just so you two fucking know, I’m gonna plant my ass in bed for the next fucking week.”

“I’ll give you a massage when we get home,” Ian smiled sweetly.

Ben made a whining noise as he sank down in the chair next to Mandy. “Can we not talk about your gross massages?”

Mickey took the spot beside him and Ian took the next with the rest of the group scattering around the table. Pressing a hand against his cheek, Mickey groaned softly at the tender spot. He blinked his eyes slowly as the waitress came by to take their orders. When she reached his side, he glanced at Ian and gave a tired nod. Rubbing his neck in comfort, Ian looked up at their server and placed an order for them both. When the waitress had walked away, Ian leaned in and pressed his forehead to Mickey’s from the side, his hand reaching under the table to tangle their fingers together.

“You sure you’re okay? Wanna go home?”

“I’m fucking hungry. Knowing the shit you cook, I can deal with the pain just to get some decent food,” Mickey said and tilted his head to the side when Ian came to smack him.

“Keep talking and that massage will be out the door,” he threatened, using a quiet voice to keep their conversation private from the rest of the table.

“You’re all talk, Gallagher,” Mickey chuckled. “Moment we get home, your fucking hands will be all over me.”

Ian’s face softened at the words as he trailed his free hand down Mickey’s back. “Can’t argue with that.”

They shared a smile, just for them, before the waitress brought their drinks to the table. Taking a long drag of his beer, he smirked at Ian’s water and looked up to see Joe watching them in amusement.

“Antonne told me the news. I’m proud of you.”

“Can we bottle the fucking love fest?” Mickey muttered, embarrassed at his own blush and ignoring the laughs around the table.

The conversation was light for the next few minutes until the servers brought out their meals. Ian pulled their chairs together, slipping an arm around Mickey’s shoulders. Instead of shrugging him off, Mickey inched himself closer and fell against the solid chest. Once their meals were midway through, Ian lowered his fork as conversation continued around them. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to Mickey’s cheek, lingering at his skin for an extra second before pulling back.

“Got something on your mind?” Mickey smirked.

“Yeah, I do,” Ian nodded, his smile innocent. “You spread out on the bed, me fucking you nice and slow.”

“Good fucking plan,” Mickey said, tilting his head even closer.

“I can’t believe you fucking picked me over boxing. Picked our family,” Ian added, leaving another kiss behind his ear.

“Like it was ever a fucking choice,” Mickey said as he raised their ringed hands. “Remember this? Tied to me for life, Gallagher. Get it through your fucking head.”

Ian’s smile was wide as he pulled Mickey’s face towards him. The playful groans around the table made Mickey raise a finger in the air like always.

Just as Ian pulled back with a laugh, his eyes suddenly widened in recognition and a groan fell from his lips. “For fuck’s sake.”

Mickey frowned and looked over, eyes narrowing in annoyance as he watched Steve make his way across the restaurant towards them, smiling brightly as he approached.

“Hi Ian! How are you?”

“He’s fucking great,” Mickey answered for him.

“I was talking to Ian,” Steve muttered, shooting a glare towards him.

“This fucking guy,” Mickey shook his head but Steve ignored his words and laid his hand on Ian’s shoulder.

“I know my leaving the Center must have been a shock. I’m sorry I left in such a hurry.”

“I’m pretty fine with you gone,” Ian replied as he looked up, trying his best to stifle his laugh.

“Who the fuck is this?” V asked from the side.

“A very sad little man,” Nia chimed in from the other end.

“I just wanted to say that I know you miss me,” Steve pressed on, staring down nervously. “If you wanted to meet up and talk, catch up, my calendar’s open.”

“Shithead, how many times I gotta tell you to fuck off?” Mickey asked, tilting his head upwards. 

“Ian is my friend. You don’t own him! You don’t deserve him!” Steve exclaimed and quickly swallowed to rein his anger in.

Mickey whirled around and pushed his chair back but Ian grabbed his arm and shook his head. 

“Steve, you're giving me a lot of creepy vibes right now, borderline stalkerish so I'll say this once and it better be the last fucking time,” Ian began before he raised Mickey’s hand. “You see the ring on his finger? You see the ring on mine? We’re _married_. He’s my husband, my partner, the love of my fucking life and my soul fucking mate. If you really don’t understand the words that are coming outta my mouth, Mickey will kick your ass. If he doesn’t, I will. If both of us choose to sit it out, _she’ll_ fuck you up.”

On cue, Mandy rose to her feet, hands clenching into fists. Steve’s eyes jumped between the three faces before he took a small step back.

“I just thought…Ian, I thought we…”

“Fuck off, Steve!” the entire table shouted in unison.

Their voices echoed in the restaurant, drawing the gaze of every other patron and server towards them. Embarrassed by the loud rejection, Steve scurried away through the dining hall and ran out the doors to a sound of applause as he went.

“Even _I_ could have kicked that dude’s ass,” Ben exclaimed, his words bringing laughter from the rest of the table.

“I swear, that fucking guy,” Mickey started but a sudden kiss instantly silenced him.

“Can we go home? I wanna get you alone,” Ian said as he pressed another kiss to Mickey’s ear.

“You know I can hear you, right?” Ben groaned, pushing his chair backwards as he rose to his feet.

They watched the teen make his way towards the restrooms on the other end before he stopped in the middle of the hall. Slowly turning around, he made his way towards one of the servers, a boy his age cleaning up a mess he had made from a stack of fallen napkins. The table watched in silence as Ben and the other boy smiled at one another, their gazes locking in the small space between them. When the server reached out and touched his arm, Ben stumbled away, a blush on his face their table could see from halfway across the restaurant. Giving a stuttering reply, Ben rushed back towards his chair, forgetting the restroom as he sank down.

Mickey opened his mouth to comment but Ian grabbed his arm and shook his head. When the group walked out of the restaurant twenty minutes later, the humiliated blush on Ben’s face had finally started to fade. Giving the others a nod of goodbye, they climbed in their car with Ian behind the wheel. Tilting his head back against his seat, Mickey closed his eyes and groaned at the pain in his muscles. His face was sore, his arms and midsection bruised. When he felt Ian’s hand against his neck, a gentle pressure from his fingers, he couldn’t stop the smile that filled his face.

Walking inside the apartment, Mickey waved his hand towards Ben and moved to the bedroom, using the little energy he had to strip down to his boxers before he faceplanted on the mattress. He heard Ian walk in after him and could feel the smile without turning around to catch it. The sound of the door closing and clothes shuffling was loud before a weight settled over Mickey’s thighs.

“Are you too tired right now? Do you just wanna go to bed?” Ian’s voice was gentle as he rubbed his hands up and down the sore muscles.

“That fucking massage sounds good,” Mickey said, his face half covered by the pillow.

With a quiet smile, Ian climbed over him to the nightstand, removing a bottle of massage oil he had hidden away. Warming his hands, he sat back over Mickey’s thighs and started pressing his fingers over the muscles. The loud moan that slipped from Mickey’s mouth made Ian freeze in his movements, feeling a stirring of heat inside him at the sound. Licking his lips, he started pressing into the sore muscles even lower, running his hands up and down. When the aching slowly vanished, he leaned over to press a kiss to Mickey’s spine, trailing his lips down to the edge of his boxers.

“You really gonna stop boxing? You really okay with it?” he asked quietly.

Mickey hesitated before patting him on his thigh. Ian lifted a few inches, giving him the space he needed to flip onto his back. They stared at one another for a long moment, Mickey’s hands resting on Ian’s thighs, rubbing up and down.

“Need me to fucking repeat it?” he finally asked, smile lazy and relaxed. “Nothing’s worth fucking with this. It ain’t what I want, man.”

Ian’s smile widened as he laid his hands down on either side of Mickey’s head. “What do you want?”

“A quiet fucking life with your ginger ass.”

Laughing at the words, Ian rolled over and fell to his back on the mattress, reaching out to pull Mickey against him. The laughter died down as they laid face to face, eyes locked on one another. Sliding his hand down, Ian slowly dragged Mickey’s boxers off his legs before he reached for his own. Their bodies molded together in a perfect line, arms wrapping tight.

“You gonna fuck me or what?” Mickey asked between kisses.

“You’re sore, Mick. You’re in pain. Not adding to that.”

“You’re magic fucking hands took care of that shit,” Mickey grumbled as he slid onto his back, pulling Ian with him. “Come on, Gallagher. Fuck me, already.”

Ian’s smile widened as he leaned down, nosing behind Mickey’s ear. “Remember the mayonnaise?”

“The fuck?” Mickey snapped, brows furrowing as he tried to push him away.

“Potato salad,” Ian whispered.

“Get the fuck off me!” Mickey struggled but the laughter quickly erupted between them. “You wanna kill the fucking mood? The fuck’s wrong with you?”

Ian settled over him again, leaning down to kiss his chin. “Just don’t wanna hurt you more.”

With a shake of his head but a fond smile, Mickey rolled on his side and pulled Ian up behind him. They settled under the blanket, pressed tightly together, the little space between their bodies completely removed.

“This won’t hurt,” Mickey spoke quietly, rocking himself backwards.

Giving in to the blissful feeling, Ian used the massage oil on himself before he pushed forward and slid in. Their hold on one another grew even tighter as they moved. When Mickey pulled their joint hands to his lips to kiss over Ian’s ring, Ian lost himself. He pulled Mickey backwards, fingers carding through his hair and cradling the back of his head as their lips found each other again. They were too far gone, too wound up to make the moment last longer than they expected. With three final thrusts, Mickey moaned loudly as his pleasure coursed through him, feeling Ian’s moments after. Their breathing was labored, uneven, but neither pulled away as Ian locked his arms even tighter around him. 

_“You could have told me to put my earphones on!”_

They broke into laughter at Ben’s muffled voice before Ian slowly pulled out and grabbed a piece of clothing to wipe their evidence away. Tossing the article to the floor, he pulled Mickey back into his arms, legs tangling under the sheets as they laid face to face. Reaching out, Ian laid his hand on the bruise on Mickey’s cheek, fingers gentle as they stroked his skin.

“A trainer, huh?”

“Sounds fucking good,” Mickey shrugged. “I’ll miss beating the shit out of people. You see me beating that douchebag tonight? Fucking awesome.”

Ian smiled at his words, his hand brushing backwards into Mickey’s hair. “Guy was surprised as shit that he lost.”

“I’ll fucking miss winning,” Mickey grinned before he reached for his own sore cheek. “Not gonna miss getting hit.”

“Me either,” Ian replied quietly.

The silence was heavy for a few seconds, both understanding the meaning behind each other’s words. Wanting to keep the moment light, Ian scratched his nails at the base of Mickey’s skull, smiling when his husband moaned softly at the touch.

“Pretty funny with Ben tonight.”

“You mean the kid failing at whatever the fuck that was?” Mickey snorted.

“I think he liked that other boy, the waiter. He tried flirting and things kind of went south,” Ian smiled. “That reminds me. Who’s having the talk with him?”

“Talk? What fucking talk?” Mickey frowned.

“The birds and the bees,” Ian chuckled but at Mickey’s confused look, he deadpanned. “Sex, Mick.”

“He’s fucking sixteen!” Mickey scoffed. “I caught him in the alley with that old dude weeks ago, remember? Pretty sure the kid knows what the fuck goes where.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think he’s ever had a boyfriend before,” Ian replied. “With his fucked up Dad, kid’s been terrified probably.”

“Ain’t this the kind of shit you talk about at the Center?” Mickey groaned. “So fucking talk to him.”

“He trusts you, Mickey. I think he trusts me too but you guys bonded first. You have a lot of things in common, a lot about your pasts. He’ll open up to you if you talk to him.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey muttered. “Can it fucking wait until the morning?”

_“I can hear you guys talking about me!”_

“Go to sleep!” Mickey shouted back. “Or put the headphones on!”

“You’re such a Dad, Mick,” Ian laughed, running his hand down his husband’s back to pull their bodies tighter together.

Instead of answering with a jab, Mickey gave in to his exhaustion. Their foreheads leaned together as they slowly drifted closer. When Mickey’s breathing evened out minutes later, Ian pressed a kiss to the side of his head, gentle in his touch. He nosed behind Mickey’s ear, breathing him in a final time before he tightened his arms and closed his own eyes.


	20. NINETEEN

*****

“Well, what do you guys think?” Antonne asked, a broad smile on his face.

Mickey took a moment to glance around himself. The boxing ring centered in the large space was old, the ropes coming off at the seams. The window on the far end had been boarded up, graffiti painted across. The flooring was decrepit, cracked in several places while the olive green wallpaper was coming apart in every corner.

“Honest opinion?” Ben asked, moving next to Mickey. “This place is a total dump.”

“Who the hell asked _you_?” Mickey said before he turned towards the brothers. “But shit, this place is a fucking dump.”

“I can understand your hesitation,” Antonne said, moving closer and lifting his arms. “But it’s got a lot of potential.”

“Brother, I don’t know,” Clyde said with a shake of his head. “You see potential, I see a lot of money to fix all this shit.”

“Was that a rat?” Ben suddenly asked, pointing to the far wall where a shadow scurried across the floor.

“Ain’t like we’re rolling in millions but we gotta do better than this shit,” Mickey waved around them.

“Not for the space we want,” Antonne replied. “Anything less and we’re looking at the gym you already have, Clyde. If we want bigger, we either have to spend double our budget to purchase a fancy spot or fix this place up and make it right.”

“But it’s so terrible,” Ben commented, reaching for one of the ropes and watching it fall over the moment he touched it. “There’s shitty, there’s shittier, there’s shittiest. This is even worse than that.”

“You done?” Mickey said, shooting the teen a glare but it held no heat and made Ben chuckle instead.

“It’s our budget, guys,” Antonne shrugged. “We can keep looking but the pickings are pretty slim.”

“I guess we can all pitch in, get some help from family, friends, clean this place up,” Clyde relented. “Just painting the walls will make a huge difference.”

_“Have you guys seen the toilets?!”_ Ben’s voice came from a distance before he scurried back inside the main room. “I know where the rat went.”

“Keep it up, keep laughing,” Mickey said with a smirk. “Who you think is cleaning all this shit?”

When Ben whined at the sudden reality, Mickey reached out and shoved him away. They shared a smile between them until Antonne stepped in.

“So, what do you guys say? Adventure yes or adventure no?”

“Fuck,” Mickey grumbled, clanking his teeth together before he finally turned around. “Done a lot of stupid shit in my life. Guess we can add this to the fucking list. You guys are in, I’m in too.”

“Brother?” Antonne asked, smiling towards Clyde.

“Fuck me,” the older man chuckled and gave a reluctant nod.

Antonne shot his hand in the air and high fived with a laughing Ben. Spreading his arm across his brother’s shoulders, they shared a smile before facing forward.

“We were thinking about a name for the new place. Something that represented all of us, in a way,” Antonne began. “Then we figured that we’re here because you threw the idea out there, the three of us joining ranks.”

“If you called it the fucking Rhino,” Mickey warned.

“No,” Clyde laughed. “We were thinking ‘South Side Gym’.”

“We’re all from the South Side, born and raised, and that’s the nickname that stuck with you at the end, when you beat Willie,” Antonne added. “Thought it made the most sense.”

“Shit,” Mickey said, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, it sounds fucking good.”

Antonne smiled. “I’ll get back in touch with the real estate agent, tell her it’s a done deal. This is gonna be great, I can see it.”

“The South Side Gym,” Clyde repeated as he followed his brother through the front doors.

“They wanna name the gym after you,” Ben said, raising a hand over his heart in a mocking motion. “That’s really sweet.”

Mickey raised a finger in reply, drawing another laugh from the teen. “We’re all from this fucking place. It ain’t just about me.”

“Yeah, in a way, it is,” Ben replied, his smile more genuine. “You gonna teach me how to fight?”

“The fuck happened to you becoming an artist or whatever?”

“Can’t I be both?” Ben asked, a sudden nervousness entering his voice.

Mickey hesitated for a brief pause before he leaned in and ruffled the teen’s hair. The smile on Ben’s face was wide as they strolled through the doors. The gym was a block south of the main road, allowing it the large parking space it needed. With the morning traffic in full swing, they ducked through the cars and made their way north to check out the rest of the neighbourhood. When they reached the sidewalk off W 79th, Ben froze in his tracks, the others bumping into him from behind. Looking forward, Mickey watched as a man stumbled through a set of double doors from a bar up ahead, hobbling in his drunken movements. The moment the man’s eyes fell on Ben and registered his son’s presence, a scowl filled his face as he staggered over.

“Look who it fucking is,” he slurred, ignoring the staring faces of the people moving around him. “My gay fucking kid. The fucking faggot.”

Seeing the sting of tears in the teen’s eyes, Mickey turned towards him. “What do you want to do here?”

“What do you mean?” Ben asked, scared eyes leaving his Father’s.

“We can leave, we can stay and the three of us can kick his ass. Fuck that, I’ll kick his ass on my own,” Mickey said with a snort. “Or you deal with this yourself. Your choice, kid.”

“This your fucking friend?” his Father said with a breathy chuckle. “I know who he is. Mickey fucking Milkovich. Your Dad was a good man, you little shit!”

Mickey made a move but Ben shot his hand out and stopped him. They shared a look that spoke volumes in the silence before Ben took a quiet step forward.

“Fuck you,” he finally said and cleared his throat when he heard his own voice waver. “I’m done with you, I’m done with that shitty home, that shitty life. You can crawl under a hole and die and I won’t give a shit.”

“Yeah, where the fuck you gonna go?” his Father shouted, stumbling backwards a step. “Who the hell would want a scared little faggot like you? Should’ve kicked your ass harder, fixed you up straight!”

“Keep talking. Those words don’t mean nothing to me no more,” Ben said, shaking his head firmly. “You used to scare the shit out of me but now, I just fucking hate you.”

“Ungrateful little fuck!” his Father shouted, reaching a hand forward but Ben used his strength and shoved him away.

“I got a home to live in, people in my life that give a shit about me and I give a shit about them. I don’t need you anymore. I never did.”

“Yeah? You gonna live with fucking strangers, walk out on your family, your blood? I’m your Father!”

“He’s been more of a Father to me in a couple months than you ever were!” Ben shouted with a point towards Mickey but he quickly took a deep breath when he noticed the onlookers gathering around them. “I don’t give a shit what happens to you but you’re never gonna lay another hand on me again. You do, I’ll fucking break it.”  
  
“You think you’re a big man now? Cause you got some fucking boxer in your corner? I’ll fucking take him on too! I’ll take everyone!”

He stumbled over his own feet and fell against a lamppost, reaching out with his hands at the last second before his face collided.

“Goodbye, Dad,” Ben said, swallowing hard against the shake in his voice before he whirled around to see Mickey watching him. “Can we get out of here?”

Mickey lifted his gaze to Ben’s Father a final time before giving a nod and leading them down the walkway. They could hear the shouts continuing in the distance but ignored them as they moved through the small crowed gathered around them. Antonne and Clyde gave encouraging nods as they climbed in their car and drove away. Sitting behind the wheel of his own, Mickey slowly turned to see the teen wiping at his eyes with a furious hand.

“How’d that feel?” he finally asked.

“Like fucking freedom,” Ben replied.

Mickey watched him for another few seconds before he leaned back in his seat. “I ever tell you how I came out?”

Shaking his head, Ben turned around so he could fully face him.

“After that fucking wedding to the Mother of my kid, Ian took off. Ran off more like it but he was gone for months. He did a lot of stupid shit while he was gone and me? I was stuck with a fucking wife,” he grunted. “Me and her are good now but back then, I hated her. When I found out where the hell Ian was, I went over to some club in Boystown and there he was, fucking high, dancing, grinding on older dudes. Some shit was going down with his family so I got him the fuck outta there. We started back up after but kept it all a secret, you know? I still had the wife, a kid on the way and then Terry got out of prison. Threw him a party at the bar and Ian showed up. Gave me an ultimatum. When him and me were done a year later, I had a lot of fucking time to think over all that shit and for a while, I hated him. Giving me an ultimatum, making me come out when I wasn’t ready. I hated him for it but fuck, I got why he did it.”

“What happened?” Ben asked quietly.

“He was ready to walk out of the bar, telling me he was done and all I could think of was how much it fucking hurt last time he walked away. It damn near fucking killed me, every time he did,” Mickey said with a scoff. “Split second choice but I made it. Stood in the middle of that fucking bar, in front of all those fucking shitheads, in front of my Dad and told ‘em all I was gay.”

“Holy shit,” Ben said with a breath.

“Fucker came at me and we fought it out. He got me good, I got him better. Ian jumped in and the whole fucking thing became this huge brawl, cops got called and shit,” Mickey replied, staring through the window as the moment played out in his head. “I’ve been staying at Ian’s while you’ve been in the can, bitch. Guess what we’ve been doing, Daddy? We’ve been fucking and I take it. He gives it to me good and hard and I fucking like it.”

He laughed as he remembered the words, tilting his head towards a shocked Ben.

“You said that to him?”

“Word for fucking word,” Mickey said with a nod. “Never forget the look on his fucking face.”

“I could never do that,” Ben whispered as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“You just kinda did.”

“That was totally different!” the teen exclaimed. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Guess that was my freeing moment. My life fucking railroaded for a long time after that but that moment, ain't ever gonna forget it. Fighting him, beating him down in the ring the other week, that fucking mattered too,” Mickey said with a slight nod to himself. “You know what you gonna do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said a bunch of stuff about living with us,” Mickey reminded. “That what you want? Plan on sticking around?”

When Ben’s eyes widened and he started stuttering through a reply, Mickey shot his hand out and playfully shoved him backwards a few inches.

“Calm the fuck down. Just meant we need a bigger place. Can’t have you on the couch all the fucking time. Need my TV,” he said with a casual shrug.

Ben swallowed hard, eyes shining as he leaned over and bumped their shoulders together. “Thanks, Mickey.”

“Yeah, whatever. It’s all good,” he dismissed the heavy meaning behind the teen’s words and quickly pulled the car into traffic.

The rest of the ride was silent but neither minded. Throwing small glances to his right at every intersection, Mickey swallowed the feelings that had risen inside him. So much of himself, he saw in the sixteen-year old boy. Never had he deemed himself a mentor, someone who could be a soundboard or shoulder for others to count on. He gave Ian most of the credit but the Ginger argued back every time, telling Mickey how good he really was. Ian had just helped bring that side of him to the surface.

Pulling outside the new Center minutes later, they parked the car and walked through the doors. Nia was first to greet them, waving her hands around the freshly cleaned space, smile bright as she asked for their opinion. With Ben following her to the crafts room down the hall, Mickey made a turn towards the offices. Standing just inside the doorway, he took a moment to watch an oblivious Ian as he finished wiping the couch.

“You and a fucking dust buster,” he finally said, his words catching Ian by surprise as he spun around.

“Hey,” Ian smiled, dropping the items from his hands and dragging Mickey in for a long kiss. “How’d it go? Is the place amazing?”

“Worst fucking dump you can imagine,” Mickey snorted, falling onto the couch with Ian beside him. “Beggars can’t be choosers or whatever the fuck. Just need loads of help cleaning all the nasty shit inside it. You can be the fucking Manager for that project.”

“I like cleanliness. What’s wrong with that?” Ian defended.

When Mickey rolled his eyes, Ian leaned back on the couch and pulled him against his chest. They sat together, wrapped up close, with Mickey’s hand covering the arm that was around him.

“Ran into the kid’s douchebag Dad when we left. Guy’s a fucking asshole,” he said after a moment. “But the kid stood up to him. Told the fucking guy off. Asshole will probably forget ‘cause he was drunk off his ass but it meant a lot to the kid.”

“Wow,” Ian said, his smile gentle. “Glad you were there with him. Just being there probably gave him more strength to do that, you know?”

Mickey made a face and came to move away but his attempt was lighthearted and Ian easily dragged him back.

“You gotta get used to that, Mick. You made a difference in his life. He may not sing your praise every day out of fear you’ll kick his ass,” Ian chuckled. “But it matters to him. You made a difference.”

“You made a fucking difference in mine,” Mickey said quietly.

Smiling softly at the words, Ian tightened his arms and leaned in to kiss his neck. They sat together for a moment, the silence comforting.

“Think we need a bigger place,” Mickey spoke up seconds later. “Kid can’t stay on the couch, you know? I need my TV.”

“I’m sure that’s why you want a three bedroom so you can watch TV in peace,” Ian chuckled before he tilted Mickey’s face towards his own and kissed him.

“You guys are so adorable,” Nia’s voice suddenly interrupted. “Like a gay Bert and Ernie. Although maybe they _were_ gay. Lot of controversy around that one.”

“We're like fuck and who?” Mickey asked, shooting her a glare to hide his embarrassment.

“Hopeless,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Your friend Joe just pulled up.”

With a small wave, she walked out of the room just as Joe moved into frame. He took a moment to look around himself before stepping further in.

“Place is looking pretty good,” he said, leaning against the desk. “If the two of you have a moment, I got some news. About Terry.”

Mickey frowned and exchanged a quick look with Ian before they untangled themselves and sat forward on the couch. “What news? The fuck he do?”

“Unsurprisingly, he was picked up last night near Springfield,” Joe explained. “He was intoxicated, had a gram of coke in his pocket, was driving a stolen car and tried to run the officers down when they stopped him.”

“Jesus,” Ian said.

“That all fuck with his parole?” Mickey asked.

“Big time,” Joe said, nodding solemnly. “I think, maybe for good. He has a lot of charges on his plate. No Judge will be lenient, not with his list of prior convictions. He’ll be going away for a long time.”

“That’s…,” Ian started as he and Mickey turned to each other. “Fuck, that’s a good thing, right?”

Mickey nodded slowly, letting the words register before he looked up. “He really going away?”

“He’s really going away,” Joe repeated.

Taking a deep breath, Mickey tilted his forehead to lean on Ian’s shoulder. The move was simple but it made Ian wrap his arms tightly around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. When they drew away, they shared a look in silence before Mickey motioned towards his parole officer.

“I’ll give you a minute,” Ian said, rising from the couch and walking outside.

“You doing okay?” Joe asked once they were alone.

“Yeah, just surprised as shit,” he said, laughing nervously. “He can’t fuck with us no more.”

“You already took care of that in the ring when you fought him,” Joe reminded. “You beat him, Mickey.”

“Fuck,” he sighed, rubbing his palms harshly over his eyes. “I ever say thanks?”

“For what?” Joe frowned.

“For being better than shitty,” Mickey replied, laughing at his own words. “You ain’t the first parole officer I’ve had but you’re the first one who was fucking different.”

Joe smiled kindly before he straightened. “Most of the ex-felons that land on my radar, I just know they’re going back. It’s a matter of time, a waiting game to see how long they last. Some go back because they can’t function outside those walls any longer. Prison is a comfort for them. Others are hardened criminals, really bad guys that deserve to be in there. You were neither, Mickey. You’re one of the few good ones, the reason why I do this job. If I helped you in any way, I’m glad to have done it but it was all you. It’s who you are on the inside and who you are is a good man. You’re not your Father. You’re better than him and you’ve proved it.”

“Fuck, man,” Mickey said, laughing nervously again as he rose from the couch. “We done with all the fucking emotions?”

“For now,” Joe smiled as they walked out of the office and towards the front doors. “Your friend Kevin called me this morning, was kind enough to invite me over to their house for some big dinner he and his wife are planning.”

“Roped you in too, huh?” Mickey snorted.

“I was pleased by the invitation,” Joe corrected. “But I had a quick question for you. My nephew, Adam, is visiting me. I’m actually on my way to pick him up at the airport after this. He’s a good guy, a couple years older than you. A schoolteacher and he was thinking of moving here to Chicago to be closer to family.”

“Where’s he coming from?”

“San Diego,” Joe replied. “I was thinking of introducing him to your sister, Mandy. I hope I’m not overstepping or anything but I think they’d be a good fit.”

“Mandy?” Mickey asked. “You wanna set him up with my sister Mandy?”

“Do you think she won’t be interested?” Joe frowned.

“A schoolteacher? Think she’ll fucking eat him alive,” Mickey grinned. “Bring him to Kev and V’s dinner. It’ll be fucking awesome.”

Joe smiled as he started to leave but he stopped and turned around, brows furrowed. “Eat him alive? Should I be worried?”

“No, man, not at all! Mandy’s the fucking sweetest,” Mickey said with a laugh that Joe couldn’t understand.

Patting the older man’s back, Mickey watched him leave before a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around him. He made a noise and looked over his shoulder to see Ian pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. Taking Mickey’s hand, Ian led them back to the office, sitting together side by side on the couch, fingers still laced.

“He’s really going away?” Ian asked quietly.

“Fucking looks like it,” Mickey said with a heavy nod.

“How do you feel about it? He’s still your Dad, despite all the shit that’s happened.”

“Always figured he’d end up dead or back in jail. Just fucking official now,” Mickey shrugged. “How you feel about it?”

“Free,” Ian said, his smile wide as he spoke. “He can’t hurt you no more. He can’t hurt us.”

They leaned in to touch their foreheads together, keeping their eyes locked as they did. Lifting his free hand, Ian ran his fingers through Mickey’s hair, gripping the ends as he dragged him in. The kiss was a gentle press, a reminder of what it all meant.

“I want to ask Robbie out!”

They tore away from one another and looked over to see the teen bouncing on his feet in the doorway.

“Robbie, the cute waiter I was flirting with!” Ben exclaimed.

“You mean the dude you crashed and burned with?” Mickey chuckled and made a noise when Ian smacked his arm. “What? He was terrible!”

“Like you were any better back then?” Ian laughed. “Always wanting to fuck in the back of the Kash and Grab? Beating the shit out of Ned ‘cause you were jealous?”

“Like you didn’t fucking enjoy all of that!” Mickey glared. “Besides, I got you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did,” Ian smiled softly.

“Can we focus on my problem right now?” Ben shrieked.

“Calm the fuck down, kid,” Mickey chuckled, switching his gaze back to Ian. “We this fucking bad?”

“ _You_ were,” Ian grinned. “Always nervous around me.”

“We remembering two different pasts here, Firecrotch?” Mickey frowned and the nickname brought an even bigger smile to Ian’s face.

“You remember our kiss at the club? How jealous you were of that guy who wanted to slip me the money? And then you were all sweet and nervous when I tried to kiss you?” Ian asked, eyes shining. “But then you kissed me, Mick. Fuck, you really did.”

“What the fuck!” Ben interrupted again, his hysterical cry making both of them face forward again. “Can we please stop taking that gross trip down your memory lane and go to the damn restaurant?”

Not waiting for an answer, he whirled around and disappeared through the doors.

“Guess that’s what we’re doing,” Ian chuckled, grabbing Mickey’s hand to pull him off the couch.

Giving Nia a wave goodbye, they climbed inside the car with Mickey behind the wheel. The drive was short but the teen kept his feet tapping against his seat the whole way. When they pulled up outside of Sizzler minutes later, Ben all but stumbled out the door.

“Do you even know if he’s working right now?” Ian asked.

“I don’t know! Guess I’ll find out,” Ben chuckled nervously before he took a breath and started walking towards the entrance.

“Hey kid!” Mickey shouted through his open window, not caring that two smokers and a waiter on his break also turned to face him. “Ian wanted me to talk to you about the bears and the horses!”

“Bears and the horses?” Ben asked, face morphed in confusion.

“Jesus, Mick. Birds and the bees!” Ian said with a sudden laugh.

“Alright, birds and the fucking bees,” Mickey rolled his eyes as he turned towards the teen again. “You know about condoms?”

Ben’s eyes widened in humiliation when a shadow fell over his shoulder. Slowly turning around, he froze when he saw the waiter, Robbie, standing beside him with a smile on his face.

“Oh shit,” Ian whispered. “You embarrassed the kid in front of the guy he likes.”

All Mickey did was grin as the two of them stared through his window, crowded in the corner of the car.

“Those your brothers or something?” Robbie asked, motioning towards the car.

“Total fucking strangers. Never seen them before,” Ben shook his head. “You going to work?”

“Yeah, but I got a few minutes. I’m happy to see you,” Robbie said, looking down with a slight blush.

“Wanna walk and talk a bit?” Ben managed to ask.

The answering smile made all his nerves go away. Shooting a glare towards the car, Ben followed the other boy around the restaurant, disappearing from their vision.

“The fuck? Do we just wait here?” Mickey asked.

“That was sweet,” Ian said instead, keeping his body pressed to Mickey’s. “Guess we should wait a few minutes.”

“For the fucking record,” Mickey started. “I was never fucking like that.”

“Yeah, you were,” Ian chuckled, moving back into his own seat but dragging Mickey’s hand with him. “Remember when my Mom came back and I ran to your place? I was freaking out and you met me at the store? Let me hold onto you as we fucked. First time it felt like more.”

Mickey kept his gaze focused forward but listened.

“Or that time after you got out of juvie, when we went to the dugouts,” Ian said, smiling sweetly. “You think I didn’t notice but I saw the way you were looking at me all night. Your eyes were soft, like you wanted to be there, to be around me and not just ‘cause we were fucking.”

He reached out and pulled Mickey’s face towards his own, leaning in closer as their eyes locked.

“You loved me the way you could back then. I never fully realized it ‘cause fuck, we were both kids but I understood after when you came for me that night after all those months apart, when you kissed me in the club in front of strangers, when you came out in front of your whole family,” Ian spoke quietly. “When you took care of me when I got sick, did everything you could to make me better. When you came for me before Mexico, when you came for me in prison. You’ve loved me for so long, Mickey. I just hope you know I’ve loved you just as long.”

“I do, Gallagher,” Mickey whispered.

“First time we fucked, I was gone on you in an instant,” Ian said, his hand running backwards into Mickey’s hair. “Didn’t realize that at the time either, just thought we were getting each other off, making each other feel good. But pretty quickly, I knew. I tried to forget you when things went bad but it never worked. You’re in me, Mickey, a part of me. Your initial’s tattooed _on_ me. I never want us to be afraid again. With Terry gone, it feels like maybe finally, we’re there.”

Their lips met in the middle as they kissed, a sweetness to the touch that matched the moment. When the door slammed open moments later, breaking them from their trance, Ben shot his head through the center of the car with a giant grin.

“I got a date,” he beamed. “Gonna go bowling on Saturday.”

Too affected by Ian’s words, all Mickey could do was nod towards the backseat. Driving down the main road, he could hear Ben’s animated voice in the background but all he could focus on was the press of Ian’s hand against his own. He looked over and saw Ian already watching him. They shared a smile that was open and honest, a smile that was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story could either end right here or I can add one last chapter which will be them going to the beach for their honeymoon. Let me know what you think. As always, it's appreciated.


	21. TWENTY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this story is over. A big thank you to everyone who left a comment, kudos or even read this story. I appreciate it so much. Hope you enjoy the ending :)

*****

Leaning over to reach inside the lowest drawer, Mickey moved the different socks around, not knowing that Ian had walked inside the bedroom and was watching him with a smile from the doorway. Grabbing the pair he wanted, he shut the drawer and straightened just as a pair of hands snaked around his waist.

“The fuck’s gotten into you?” he chuckled and made a small noise when Ian’s hands moved under his jacket, nails raking down his chest.

Instead of answering, Ian pressed a kiss against his neck, moving his lips slowly to the other side, stopping behind his ear to breathe him in. Pushing Mickey against the dresser even harder, Ian lined himself up, all the space between their bodies gone before he slowly rolled his hips.

“Fuck, we gotta leave soon,” Mickey moaned, dropping his head backwards.

Lacing their fingers together, Ian lowered his free hand and reached for the button on Mickey’s jeans. Just as their eyes closed, the sudden knocking at the apartment door snapped them from their daze.

_“Hurry up and get your asses out here!”_ Mandy’s voice sounded from the hallway seconds later.

“Fuck,” Mickey growled, ignoring his sister as he spun around and dragged Ian in for a hungry kiss.

The moment their tongues met and the heat between them began to rise, Mandy barged inside the room, groaning loudly.

“Can the two of you go a damn minute without fucking?” she demanded, arms crossed at her chest.

“We’re going on our honeymoon,” Ian mumbled, shamelessly lowering Mickey’s collar to kiss the base of his neck. “We’re allowed to be like this.”

“Not unless you want me to gouge my eyes out!”

Sighing at her words, the two of them finally pulled away, reaching for their bags and following Mandy out of the bedroom.

Ben was leaning against the couch, eyes narrowed as he watched them. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m sixteen!”

“I’ll feel better knowing you’re not alone while we’re away,” Ian said, smiling kindly at the teen. “Besides, you and Mandy will have lots of fun. She’s really great when she’s not being scary.”

“I’m fucking awesome!” she exclaimed, tilting her head towards Ben. “Heard you had a hot date.”

“Did you guys tell the whole city?” Ben muttered before he switched his attention to Mandy. “It was just bowling.”

“You kiss the guy?”

“No! We’re taking it slow!"

“Amateur,” Mandy said with a shake of her head, but her playful smile was peeking.

“It’s not like I’ve ever had a boyfriend before,” Ben grumbled. “I like slow. Fucking sue me.”

“Slow is good,” Ian said with a supportive nod.

“Not if it’s a fucking glacier,” Mickey cut in.

“You would know all about that,” Ian mumbled, reaching for his bag and throwing it over his shoulders.

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Mickey frowned. “You and me fought and fucked on the same day. How’s that’s slow?”

“It took you how long to kiss me?” Ian asked.

Mickey made a face and threw a finger in the air, the force of habit making Ian laugh fondly as he pulled him over to kiss his cheek. "It’s okay. It was worth the wait."

“Oh my God, you guys are so sweet!” Mandy gushed before her eyes narrowed. “Think I got another fucking cavity just standing here.”

Reaching for his own gym bag, Mickey tossed it across his chest as he faced his sister. “What happened on your date with Joe’s nephew? Heard you bit the poor fucker’s dick off.”

“No, I didn’t!” she shouted. “I never even slept with him!”

“Guess slow’s good for you too?” Ian asked, grinning wide.

The double fingers she gave them made Mickey snort before he turned to face Ben. “Alright, kid. Don’t fuck anything up, burn anything down or get arrested. Keep an eye out on my psycho sister while you’re at it.”

She narrowed her eyes in a death glare that he matched. Finally giving in, Mandy rolled her eyes again and pulled her brother to the side, giving them a few feet of space from the others.

“Have a good time over there,” she said quietly, all animosity gone from her voice.

Lifting her arms, she wrapped herself around him in a tight embrace, one he returned without hesitation.

“See?” Ian asked, tilting his head towards Ben. “I told you there’s love between them.”

They both raised a finger as they leaned away. Giving Mandy a smirk and a playful shove to Ben’s shoulder, Mickey yanked the door open and followed Ian out of the apartment. The Uber they had ordered was waiting for them downstairs, the driver standing outside the eight seater minivan with the door open. When Mickey came to climb in the middle, Ian shoved him towards the third row in the back and took the seat beside him.

“The fuck you wanna sit back here for?” 

Instead of answering, Ian gave directions to the driver when the older man hopped in behind the wheel. Tossing their bags to the floor, they sat back as the car merged with morning traffic. When the radio switched on and music filled the quietness around them, Ian moved closer across the bench until their bodies were pressed tightly together.

“What are you doing?” Mickey asked quietly.

“Just keep looking forward.”

Leaning in, Ian pressed his lips to Mickey’s throat, leaving small kisses as his hand snaked around his waist. He held him close against himself as his mouth trailed downwards, gentle bites that left Mickey sighing.

“The fucking driver’s right there,” Mickey whispered but he bit his lip at the sensation coursing through his body.

“I just wanna kiss you,” Ian said, his voice gentle. “Wanna make you feel good.”

Mickey softened at the words, reaching out to place his hand behind Ian’s neck. “You made me feel good this morning and four fucking times last night. We trying to break a fucking record or something?”

“Guess I’m just excited for the honeymoon,” Ian replied, his eyes glazing over.

Taking a deep breath, Mickey leaned in and closed the distance. Their lips pressed together, a gentle swipe of tongue that left them both breathless. Before Ian could deepen the kiss, the driver pulled over to the curb, the sudden stop yanking them from their trance.

“You guys mind I grab more passengers? They’re going to the airport too.”

“No, all good,” Ian said with a fake smile, watching the door slide open.

The older ladies were quick to share pleasantries as the driver pulled back onto the road. When the women finally focused their attention forward, Ian took advantage of the moment and brought their lips together again. They shared a private smile before Ian laced their fingers together and brought their joined hands to his own lap, neither looking away. 

  
********  
  


Falling into two empty seats near their gate, they dropped the bags to the floor and glanced around their surroundings.

“What do you wanna do first when we get there?” Ian asked, drawing Mickey’s attention back to him. “You wanna just relax at the hotel, go for a walk, get something to eat?”

“Relaxing sounds fucking good. What about you?”

“Been wanting to get my hand or mouth on you all morning so I guess that first,” Ian shrugged.

“Would you fucking quit it?” Mickey groaned but the smile on his face gave him away. “Gonna drag you to the fucking restroom in a minute.”

Ian chuckled lightly as he reached across to draw their faces together. Mickey took a sharp breath out of habit but his hand slowly lifted to lay gently over Ian’s as he melted into the kiss. When they pulled away, their eyes stayed locked on each other, forgetting the large crowd around them. The sudden gasp made them glance forward to see an elderly woman sitting across them, watching their moment with a smile.

“You boys are just the sweetest!” she gushed, her grey locks rolled up in a bun, red lipstick and pearl earrings on full display. “My grandson is gay and his husband is a wonderful man. You boys remind me so much of them.”

“Thanks,” Ian chuckled, squeezing Mickey’s fingers to ease the slight tension.

“Burt, honey?” she started, tilting to the side but her smile quickly disappeared when she heard her snoring husband. “Burt!”

The old man jumped in his seat, confusion filling his face as he looked around. When his eyes landed on his wife, his gaze narrowed in a scowl. “What you wake me up for?”

“These boys, don’t they remind you of Will and Danny?”

The old man stared at them for a critical moment before turning back to his wife again. “What you harassing these boys for?”

She waved her hand to dismiss him. “You boys going to Florida on vacation?”

“Honeymoon,” Ian replied, sharing a grin with the woman despite the glare he felt on the side of his face.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Delta flight A180 to Miami International. We will begin our boarding now and ask any passengers that require assistance, any passengers with infant children and any in our first class to please come forward,” the Agent announced through the P.A.

“That’s us,” the old lady smile, slowly rising to her feet and dragging her husband in tow. “Have a lovely honeymoon, you two.”

Mickey waited until they had gone before he smacked Ian’s arm. “The fuck, man? Why you gotta announce that shit?”

“She was a sweet old lady and besides, you gotta start getting used to it."

“Used to what?”

“Me telling people we’re married, kissing you in public,” Ian said and leaned in until their lips were inches apart. “We're going on our honeymoon, Mick. One you planned as a wedding gift for me. It's fucking romantic and I'm gonna romance the shit out of you too. Get used to it.”

Mickey glanced away moments later but he left his hand tangled with Ian's. When their seats were finally called, they showed their documents and followed the crowd down the hallway. Reaching their row inside the plane, they took turns fitting their bags in the overhead compartment. Taking the spot beside the window, Mickey stuffed his water bottle in the pocket of the chair in front of him.

“Glad you took that seat,” Ian said, lowering in the spot in the middle. “Now I can do this.”

He leaned in and stole a kiss, pulling away with a laugh when he saw the look on Mickey’s face. As the rest of the passengers continued walking in, Mickey glanced over the seats behind them.

“Lemme up. Gotta use the toilet.”

Ian pulled his legs closer to give him the space he needed. “Gonna see if the mile high club can happen?”

“The mile fuck what?”

“Just go,” Ian chuckled, his hand catching on Mickey’s waist as he helped him towards the aisle.

Tilting his head back, Ian smiled to himself as he stared through the window. When he felt a shadow cast over him moments later, he turned to see a tall blond grinning down at him with a perfect row of teeth. The man reached his arms up, bare in the sleeveless tank he was wearing, and flexed his muscles as he raised his bag overhead. Stifling his laugh, Ian glanced down the aisle to see a line of passengers waiting.

“Dude, are you done modeling your ass?” a voice suddenly asked.

Ignoring the disgruntled passengers behind him, the blond turned his megawatt smile back to Ian. “I’m Brad.”

“Dude, I’m Angelo. Can you move?” the same voice snapped.

“Is this seat taken?” Brad asked, careless towards the rowdy crowd that had gathered.

“Is that what it says on your ticket?” Ian replied, forcing a polite smile. “Guess it’s yours, then.”

Giving a final smirk to the irritated passengers, Brad lowered himself to the spot on Ian’s right. The crowd began moving the moment he cleared the aisle, shooting daggered glares towards the blond as they dispersed.

“They’re just jealous. Can’t deal with how good I look,” Brad commented.

A head suddenly popped up from the seats behind them. “Hey dude, I’m Angelo. Remember? And keep telling yourself that.”

Sharing a look with Ian, Angelo settled back in his place. Clearing his throat, Brad let the grin back on his face as he leaned across his seat. “Never got your name, handsome.”

“First name is Married, last name is Never Gonna Happen,” Ian replied, lifting his hand to show his ring.

“I won’t tell if you won’t."

Ian made a face just as Mickey returned to their row. Forcing his way towards the window, Mickey fell into his seat with an irritated huff.

“Fucking toilets, smaller than my ass hole,” he muttered, the words drawing a laugh from Ian.

“Bet you and me could fit in there, Ginger,” Brad murmured.

“The fuck he say?” Mickey asked, looking between them.

When Brad’s eyes focused on Mickey’s face, the leering smile made another appearance. “You could join too, hottie. I don’t mind a three way.”

Mickey's eyes slowly narrowed. "The fuck you just call me?"

Ian’s brows rose to his forehead, a signature move of Mickey’s he had picked up through the years. “He's my husband.”

“Don’t get so jealous, Ginger. What’s wrong with sharing?”

Before Mickey could reach for Brad’s collar, Ian grabbed the water they had bought in transit. Flipping the lid open, he spun the bottle over. Yelping at the sudden coldness, Brad leapt from his seat and jumped in the aisle, his lap completely drenched.

“What the hell are you doing?” he squawked, tossing a glare back at Angelo who laughed loudly behind them.

Ian reached for the call button and smiled sweetly when the Flight Attendant approached. “I’m sorry to bother you but this passenger seems to have had an accident.”

“He pissed himself!” Angelo added from behind.

“I didn’t piss myself!” Brad shouted, staring between the different faces watching him.

“Sir, why don’t you come with me?” the Flight Attendant asked, her face scrunching as she stared at his stained pants.

“People get nervous. Maybe try wearing one of those adult diapers next time,” Ian offered, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Huffing in anger, Brad grabbed his bag and pushed his way towards the tail end of the plane. Angelo’s hand shot up between their seats, a thumbs up raised high into the air. Laughing quietly, Ian settled back to see Mickey’s amused expression.

“You fucking pleased with yourself?”

“What? I’m supposed to sit there and let that jerk flirt with you? Asshole deserved it,” Ian defended.

“This you being all possessive again?” Mickey chuckled.

“Hey, all I did was throw water on him. You would’ve hit the guy!”

“Fuck, yeah, I would’ve. Fucker shouldn’t look at shit that ain’t his,” Mickey nodded.

“Exactly, Mick, and guess what? You're mine too!”

They stared at one another for a heated moment before grins broke out on both of their faces.

“Think we need fucking ownership papers?” Ian asked, snorting at his own words.

“The fuck you think this is?” Mickey raised their joined hands between them, rings shining across their fingers.

Ian’s frustration immediately disappeared, the smile reaching his eyes as he squeezed Mickey’s hand in his own. “It means we belong to each other.”

“Fuck,” Mickey said, laughing quietly. “When’d we get so fucking sappy?”

“We’re happy, Mick,” Ian said, his voice gentle as he pressed in closer. “We deserve to be.”

“Come here,” Mickey said, his voice fond as he pulled Ian the rest of the way over. “Just so you fucking know, the fucking toilet ain’t big enough for two.”

Ian’s smile grew even wider as he stole another kiss, neither noticing when the plane lifted in the air. They leaned against each other, hands locked over Ian’s lap, and for the first time since Mickey could remember, completely unguarded to the world around them.

  
********  
  


Making their way past the small fountain down the pathway lined with palm trees, they walked through the entrance of the six story building. The hotel lobby had a restaurant on one end, tables scattered around the open space and the front desk at the other.

“Welcome to the Ocean Breeze Hotel!”

The cheery voice captured their attention and they moved towards the brunette shooting them a wide smile.

“Hi, we’re checking in under Gallagher?” Ian said in greeting.

“Oh, you must be Ian and Mickey! I’m Nancy, Mandy’s friend. Don’t you guys worry about a thing! Everything’s already set up for you.”

They glanced at one another before Mickey faced Nancy with a frown. “You and all your happiness are friends with my _sister_? In what fucking world?”

Quickly glancing around to make sure no one else was present, Nancy leaned over the counter. “We used to escort at the same agency.”

“Oh!” Ian said, a startled laugh falling from his lips.

“But I moved out here to be close to family and she started working at that real estate office. We kept in touch, though. She was awesome to me back then. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her,” she replied, her smile more genuine. “And her exact words were ‘I convinced my shithead brother to take his husband on their honeymoon to Florida and I’m gonna send them your way. Take care of them. They deserve it.”

“Fucking Mandy,” Mickey said. “When’d she get so fucking…?”

“Nice?” Ian supplied. “She’s always been nice, Mick. Just a bit rough around the edges. Reminds me of someone I know.” He gave a sweet smile that had Mickey rolling his eyes.

“She talks about you guys when she calls,” Nancy added, looking to Mickey with a smile of her own. “Makes me swear to never tell another soul on pain of death but she talks about you all the time. Always telling me how you looked out for her growing up. Seeing you happy means a lot to her, even if she doesn’t show it. Seeing both of you happy.”

“Shit, Mandy,” Ian said absently. “Mick, look what she helped arrange for us. We gotta spend more time with her. We gotta make her see she matters.”

“She knows,” Mickey said, his voice quiet.

“I have you guys on the third floor, suite 306, overlooking the ocean,” Nancy cut in after a few beats of silence. “Our beach is private and only guests are allowed. We have permits from the City Fire Department which allows bonfires. Your package gives you access to one of the fire pits where an attendant will get the bonfire set up for you if you choose to have it. That part was a perk I included.”

“A bonfire on the beach?” Ian asked, his smile wide. “That sounds great. Thank you.”

“Anything for Mandy,” Nancy said, sliding two key cards across the counter. “Let me know if you guys need anything else. Enjoy your stay!”

Making their way down the hall, they rode the elevator to the third floor before opening the door to their suite seconds later. The room had a desk and chair set at one corner with a dresser on the other end. The bathroom curved past a small nook beside the door but the part that caught Mickey’s eyes was the large bed. The balcony was set across it, opened by a set of double doors, leading to the view of the beach and ocean.

“Holy shit,” Ian exclaimed, stepping outside to let the warm breeze touch his skin. “Mick, forget just spending more time with her. We owe Mandy big for this.”

“I know,” Mickey nodded, voice quiet as he stepped beside him. “Think a fucking seashell will do the trick?”

Ian laughed as he moved behind him, pushing him against the railing and curling his arms around his waist. He lowered his chin to Mickey’s shoulder, tilting his head to leave a quick kiss.

“Maybe we could take that new guy she’s into, Joe’s nephew, out for drinks or something. Talk her up a bit,” Ian suggested.

With a lopsided smile, Mickey circled around so they could properly kiss. The world around them was quiet, nothing but the gentle ocean waves sounding in the background as they pressed their foreheads together, breathing the moment in.

“What do you wanna do?” Ian asked after several beats had passed. “Wanna stay in?”

He followed his question by trailing his lips down Mickey’s throat, the touch gentle, lingering at the spot behind his ear. He heard Mickey’s small intake of breath and smiled, tightening his hold even further.

“You keep doing that and I’ll never leave this fucking room,” Mickey finally replied, lifting his hands to Ian’s chest to push him slightly back. “Let’s explore the beach and shit.”

Laughing quietly, Ian stole a final kiss before he stepped away. They reached for their bags and changed their clothes, slipping into board shorts and tanks. Making their way through the back entrance of the hotel, they stepped across the boardwalk until they were standing on the soft sand. Making their way forward, they stopped at the edge of the water, taking in the beauty of the open water around them.

“Shit, Mick, this is perfect,” Ian said, breathing in the fresh air.

“Yeah, man, it is,” Mickey nodded, his voice quiet as he stared out at the ocean. “Always fucking wanted this for us. Just you and me, on a beach somewhere. All that fucking shit behind us.”

“We’re here now,” Ian said, looking over with a soft smile.

“Yeah, guess we are,” Mickey said with a smile of his own.

His eyes traveled past Ian’s shoulders and suddenly noticed the small group of people several feet away. They were guests from their hotel, a mix of men and women their age, decked out in their bathing suits.

“Think we got some fans,” Mickey said, snorting as one of the women tossed her hair in a flirty display.

Instead of looking backwards, Ian kept his gaze focused on Mickey, his eyes softening even more as he took a step towards him. “Come here.”

Reaching for Mickey’s waist, his hands curled around as he pulled him in. Their bodies collided together, Ian silencing any words with a swipe of his tongue. He pulled at Mickey’s arms until they were secure around his shoulders before sliding his own hands slowly down. Slipping his fingers in the back pockets of Mickey’s shorts, Ian’s hold was possessive, claiming him for the world to see. 

“Can we go back inside now?” Ian asked, his teeth catching on Mickey's lower lip when they pulled back for air.

“Thought we were gonna explore?” Mickey asked but he acted against his own words, moaning quietly when he felt Ian slip a knee between his legs and press upwards.

“Later. Right now, I just wanna fuck you.”

“Fuck,” Mickey whispered and in a second, Ian’s lips were on his again. “We’re putting on a fucking show. Get the fuck inside, man. Shit.”

Stepping backwards with a shaky breath, he looked up into Ian’s eyes and saw the want and love shining back at him. With several blinks to clear the fog inside his head, Mickey gave a small nod and Ian was on him in a second, steering him around, rushing him back towards the entrance. The group that were watching cheered as they walked by but neither could focus. They stopped every few feet to share another kiss before they finally reached their suite upstairs. Stumbling inside towards the bed, they tore at each other’s clothes, tossing them to the floor without care. When they stood bare at the edge of the mattress, Ian slowed his movements, pulling Mickey’s face towards his own, the kiss gentler than the last.

Lowering himself down over the sheets, Mickey drew Ian above him, his legs slipping wide without hesitation. He felt Ian smile in their kiss at the openness between them and tilted his head backwards when he felt a hand reach down to stroke him. Closing his eyes, he bit his lip and gave himself over to the sensation of lubed fingers. When Ian slid inside moments later, he filled that growing ache.

Lifting up on his elbows, Ian stared down at him without moving, waiting until Mickey’s eyes had opened. The moment their gazes locked on one another, Ian slid his arms under Mickey’s body, holding him close before he started rolling their hips. Mickey licked his lips and made a noise when Ian chased his tongue, fusing their mouths together. Their bodies rocked over the mattress, the heat between them rising, their arms tightening their hold on each other. As they pressed their foreheads close, Mickey let his eyes slip shut again. Feeling the fullness deep inside him, he gave into the feeling and slid his hands through Ian’s hair, tugging on the strands. When he felt Ian lay a gentle kiss over his eyelids, one after another, he quickly snapped his eyes open.

“I love you."

Ian’s eyes filled with sudden tears as he stared down at him. “I love you too.”

Their lips met in the middle in a gentle touch. Pulling his hands free, Ian reached for Mickey’s legs, wrapping them tight around his own body. Their moves grew more erratic, a desperate need clawing inside them, a need to feel even closer than they were. The moment he felt Ian’s teeth bite into the skin behind his ear, Mickey tilted his head backwards and let the pleasure course through him. Ian’s moan was loud as they fell over the edge, the rapid beating of their hearts even louder.

They stayed locked together for several minutes, taking comfort from the closeness between their bodies. When Ian finally lifted up and pulled out, falling over on his back, Mickey felt the emptiness left behind.

“It always gonna feel that good?” Mickey asked, his voice quiet.

“Yeah, it will,” Ian smiled, turning on his side to run his hand across Mickey’s cheek.

He waited until Mickey had rolled towards him, their legs tangling together under the sheets before he snuggled even closer. The balcony door was wide open, a warm breeze flowing through.

“You said I love you first.”

Mickey tilted his head backwards, his face drawing into a frown. “The fuck you talking about?”

Ian’s smile was gentle. “Ever since the first time you said it outside the house, when I came back with Monica way back then, you’ve never said it first.”

“You keeping track or something? The fuck?” Mickey exclaimed but when he tried to move away, Ian slipped an arm around his waist to keep him close.

“Don’t you get it?” Ian asked, his smile sweet. “It means you finally forgive me.”

“The fuck are you talking about? Forgave you for shit a long time ago. We forgave each other!”

“Mick, you said it _first_ ,” Ian repeated, his eyes gentle, his touch even softer. “It means all that shit is finally behind us. It means we can close that fucking chapter. It fucking means everything.”

Mickey took a deep breath at the sudden realization of the truth in Ian’s words. His mind moved backwards to the years since that fateful day outside the Gallagher steps, the day Ian had broken up with him. His heart had shattered into pieces, seeing the boy he had fallen in love with, the boy he had conquered his fears for, ending things between them in such a careless way. Sammi, prison, his escape, Mexico and everything that had happened between had raised Mickey’s guards in ways he had believed would be permanent. Not even their time together in prison had fully healed those wounds. But everything that had happened after their release had brought an end to years of heartache. Ian had gone the distance over and over, proving his love and commitment, showing that he was all in. The proposal, the vows at their wedding, all the ways they had supported each other through the Center and boxing solidified the bond they had shared since their days as clueless teens, fumbling around in secret. With Ian's gentle reminder, Mickey realized that a small part of him still held onto that pain of rejection. Being the one to say those words first again was the final act of forgiveness.

When he slowly met Ian’s eyes, all he saw was love, patience and understanding. “I _love_ you.”

“I love you too,” Ian repeated, his smile widening as he nuzzled at Mickey's neck and breathed him in. “You ready for round two or do you wanna go explore a bit?”

The answering grin made Ian laugh as he leaned down again.

  
********  
  


Walking together, hairs wet from the shared shower they had taken, Ian spread his arm across Mickey’s shoulders, pulling him close against his side. When Mickey’s hand wrapped around his waist, their smiles widened. The beach was a long stretch of sand as they left the privacy of their hotel and continued forward. A young family was busy chasing their toddler son as he splashed in the waves. An elderly couple waved in greeting as they walked past.

“What you smiling about?” Mickey finally asked.

“We’re free, Mick,” Ian replied, his voice carrying a lightness that Mickey recognized within himself. “Being here, just being together, holding you, kissing you out in the open, it means everything. I love you. I love you more than anything.”

“There you fucking go, being all sappy again,” Mickey chuckled but he tilted his head inward and left a kiss at Ian's neck. “Love you too, Gallagher. Fucking always.”

When he felt Ian press a kiss to the top of his head, a smile slowly curved his lips. They continued walking forward as Mickey glanced towards the peaceful ocean, unable to stop the feeling of hope that settled inside him. For so much of his life, he had been afraid. Terrified of his Father, terrified of who he was and the man he wanted to be. His love for Ian and the love he felt in return broke through all those fears, shattering the walls he had carefully crafted around his heart. Ian had made mistakes, so had he. Ian had broken his heart and he had done the same. But through all their painful moments, the separation and anger, bitterness and fear, one constant had always remained. Their love for one another had been the strongest feeling, untouchable and true. It was a love that had initially rocked them, shaken them to their core, but one that had survived everything. For the first time since he owned up to his truth at the Alibi all those years before, Mickey finally let himself be unafraid.

The warm breeze spread across his skin, making Mickey's smile grow even wider. Freedom had been the toughest journey. But where they were now, rings snug around their fingers, happy and confident in the future that lied before them, it made the road towards that moment worth it. They were finally free.


End file.
